Faith

The Testimony that Forever Transformed my Devotional Life

I hear it all the time: I don’t do devotions.

Guilt ridden people share about their struggles, giving every excuse from lack of time, to distraction and even to doubt that it is necessary.

I was once one of them. My devotions were mindless prayers before the table as my thoughts were a hundred miles away. My time spent with God was non-existent.

But in 2014, I heard a testimony that changed everything. Being with God was no longer a list on my things to do, it was the first thing I wanted to do. In fact, I was so radically changed that I believed I was better off spending time with God than eating or sleeping. This meant in a very real way that if I had to chose between spending time with God and sleep, it wasn’t even a question in my mind – I chose God.

Ah yes, 2014. The year I had a 7 year old, 5 year old, 4 year old, 2 year old and a colicky newborn.

I remember it well, well meaning folks telling me as a young mom that seeking God is unimportant in those years… God understands, they say.

The truth is yes, he understands. It’s true. He’s not angry with anyone for not spending time with him.

But the thing is, that’s not the point!

Our entire existence was never meant to be about trying to avoid angering God – what a terrible way to live! What a false and warped view of God!

The point is that overtired, overworked and unappreciated Mother’s need him desperately, and devotions were never meant to be spending time with God out of some religious guilt.

It becoming so convinced that your faith is the only thing you have of value, that you actually begin to live like it is.

So 2014… I was going through depression, I was physically in the worst shape of my life, I had five kids and very little help with them. I was constantly overwhelmed. I couldn’t fit in five minutes to pray.

And I went to a conference that changed me forever.

A young woman came on stage to tell her testimony. She spoke of her years getting a masters degree in a difficult field (I forget what it was) and how much time a day she had to herself… which was NO time. She literally went to school, did homework, went to work, did homework and then maybe got four hours of sleep in before she had to repeat the exhausting cycle all over again. She was almost burnt out.

But then one day, she happened to cry out to God and she felt him telling her to tithe.

“But how God,” she responded, “I have no money!”

God responded simply: “I’m not talking about your money child, I’m asking for your time. Give me 10% of your time and I will multiply it.”

She obeyed. And slowly, she began spending more and more time with God, because she desired him so much! She eventually spent from 3-4 hours a day with him and had more time than ever before! Where it came from was a mystery to her. The rest of her story was remarkable. Her time was literally multiplied. She began getting six or more hours of sleep a night. Her grades went up.

Just from being with Jesus. The Creator.

He knows how we are formed. He knows how life works. The question was not, did I have time, rather, did I really believe that being with God was important? That it could change my life?

Now six years later…I’ve been asked by many people how I manage my time with five kids. How I get everything done, how we seem to be on time for the most part, how everything – from cooking, to cleaning, to sports, to homework and music lessons – how everything gets done… and I often just smile and say I don’t know.

But you know what it really is?

God has multiplied my time.

By spending time with God each day, he has taught me, slowly, step by step how to manage life. How to stretch my money to make ends meet. How to survive under the most difficult situations. How to organize chaos.

You see, it was never me! It’s my time with a God! Read my journal and you will see the difficult questions I ask him each day. I don’t have the answers!

But he does.

And learning this truth, that life just works so much better when it’s walked by his side, changed everything for me.

I challenge my readers to take this testimony to heart. You don’t have time? Then I’m definitely talking to you! Give God an hour, wake up early if you have to just to sit with him, listen to him. Pour out your thoughts and troubles, allowing him show you a better way. It will transform you.

I promise.

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Fitness · Health · Running

Run

Lost in thoughts that swirl like the wind around me, the steady rhythm of my feet keeps the time. The world around moves slowly, as if I’m in some different place entirely – a world far different from mine.

Golden fields stretch out far as the eye can see. Chaos fades into peaceful breaths, left alone to my thoughts and steps. Sometimes in silence, sometimes singing with each gasping breath. Sometimes yelling to the dog because she’s off in the field, nowhere near my side.

Beside me, my dog comes alive. It’s the favourite part of her day. Just us, going nowhere for no reason. When does that happen?

Most days, just before evening.

The sun begins to set.

The stifling heat of summer gives way to the cool of the fall. Leaves turn warm colors as the air grows colder each day. Red, brown, yellow and orange. The perfect skyline bouquet.

Run.

As my breaths become sharper, and my knees begin to ache, I change the tempo and taper my speed. The rhythm is slower, but perfectly in tune with the world around me which is also preparing for rest. My favourite shoes begin to rub and pinch in the all wrong places. The skin beneath my arm feels tender. A sword pierces my side.

But I do not stop.

Perseverance is par for the course. Runners know persistence, they are tenacious and among the stubborn on this Earth.

Because what would we do without this?

Trade real beauty and peace for a screen? Trade true emotional rest for a sitcom or show, that wearies the mind and troubles the soul? Or rush from one event to the next…still running, but without taking a breath. Or make wearisome conversation when all that you crave is stillness and to be alone?

No.

I run. To nowhere at all.

For the Joy. In the pain. Finding God. Shutting out hate. For the peace. For my health. This keeps me sane.

To remind myself that I’m still here, and I still matter.

Keep running.

Family · Summer

Summer Adventures in a Family of Seven

Sometimes I really get a kick out of people’s reaction to how many kids we have. When I tell people that we have five kids, first I’m asked if I’m Catholic, which I am not.

The next question on the list is if I homeschool, which I do. And the look of sheer amazement that follows is amusing to me… as if I should be runner up for the next “Duggar Family TV series” or as if they expect us to break out into a Von Trapp family singsong.

Which I am thrilled about. (The Von Trapp family part). And believe me, we do break out into many songs but more often than not it is the latest trending YouTube kids music artist singing, “It’s a cat flushing the toilet” or “Hamster on a piano”…Not quite standing ovation worthy, although now that I’m picturing it, I can see us doing a twisted remake of the songs and filming our cat on the piano, or flushing a hamster down the toilet (Gasp! Did I actually dare type that?? Yes, yes I did. Hamsters are just the WORST and should not be considered pets. Shudder.)

Moving on.

We are not that picture perfect family. My boys will often leave the house with stained T-shirts and ripped jeans, if I can get them into their jeans that is… More often than not it’s sweatpants again (I hate that this has become a “trendy” teen thing! REALLY?!? SWEATPANTS of all things?!?)

My kids can also be crazy and loud but they are also sometimes really well behaved. They say inappropriate things at the dinner table, but they also can be remarkably mature. They fight like cats and dogs, yet, unlike a lot of siblings these days, really do enjoy being together.

This summer is a unique one for me. Until now every autumn that follows has really been no different from the summer. My kids stay home for schooling and other than my mornings being much busier while teaching, my life doesn’t really change in the fall. However, this year my children will all be in public school come fall. And knowing this, has changed summer for me.

My mind is on the fact that summers will be the only full days that I have with all my children from now on. And I only have five more summers until Isaiah, my oldest, hits 18. That brings me to a place where I want to make the most of these days: Slowing down, being with them, doing the things we love. With this being our goal for the summer, we bought a larger above ground pool. Here I’ve found we have been able to spend many hours being together and enjoying our time together. Everyone likes swimming! Suddenly our five-year-old and 13-year-old have something in common! Put a trampoline next to it (safety first over here 😁) and it becomes a hit for teenagers to hang out.

Next we planned a couple of camping trips. We just finished the first one and now I’m dreading the second! Really. It wasn’t a great experience. That’s an understatement. It was quite literally the worst camping weekend of my life. And I’ve had a lot of bad camping experiences!!

The Storm of the century came through and we ended up spending WAAAY to much time in a little camper, which was cute for sleeping space, but for hanging out was just a little much for me…

Soooo ten hours of Bingo and watching spongebob square pants later:

Not to mention we lost our seven-year-old on the beach for nearly 10 minutes in one of the most terrifying moments of my life. Suddenly I had looked up to count my kids for the fiftieth time and noticed he was missing from where I had seen him last. Scanning the beach, I didn’t see his bright yellow shirt that we dressed him in and so I ran to the bathrooms by the beach thinking that for sure he had gone there and forgotten to tell me. I checked every stall, calling his name, before I started to panic. One lady noticed me and also started calling his name. My husband ran back to the campsite to check there and I began asking people on the beach if they had seen my boy.

No one had seen him.

At this point I was nearly hysterical. His bike was still at the beach as were his sandals so I figured he wouldn’t have gone anywhere else and I already had a group of people on the beach looking for him/calling his name. He was nowhere to be found. I finally began searching the water where I had last seen him, before my friend found him in the washrooms way back at our campsite 😱

He had simply forgotten that there were bathrooms closer to the beach and figured that he wouldn’t make it to the bathroom if he stopped to tell us where he was going. Why he left his shoes and bike behind is still a mystery to me, as it would’ve taken him for longer to run barefoot all the way…

So in all, I have decided that I’m possibly never going camping again unless all my kids have built in tracking devices that beep when they get too far away from me.

Speaking of which we also have swimming lessons coming up in a couple weeks… Drowning is one of those things that absolutely terrifies me, and I think it is so important that kids learn to swim well!

Another thing I’ve also decided to venture in this summer is to try new things when it comes to baking. There are certain things that I avoid making because the’ve never turned out for me. Pastries are one of those things…mainly pies. In the past when I’ve tried making pies it’s always been a disaster. The crust is crumbly and ugly and the pie ends up being too runny. Finally this week I perfected the pie (Made with hand picked berries from when we went camping).

The Perfected Pie:

(Don’t worry, I will be baking the other two as well, but they look so much prettier before coming out of the oven.) They were SO good! I will definitely be making more!

I also want to be more hospitable and so I’m trying to have one family down each week for a meal. This is one thing our generation is losing, the art of hosting and I feel like it’s such an important thing to keep doing! What better way to get to know people (and for them to get to know me) than to I have them in your home where they can see the real you? We like to meet places these days, to keep the mess out of our homes and make things “easier” but I really do feel like we are missing out on so much by doing things this way!

Finally I’ve been trying to keep up with my running a couple times a week and also my Spanish. There’s a little three-year-old girl at church that I talk to in Spanish occasionally. Last week I tried to comment on something and she giggled and said, “Dora??” I had to laugh so hard because I totally picked up that phrase from the show and she caught me 😂😂

Yes I speak Dora Spanish.

I’ve also been really enjoying the view from my front veranda. The farmer across the field decided to plant canola this year and every morning I get to look out on a beautiful sea of yellow. The view is just breathtaking! There’s nowhere else I would rather be than here right now.

So that’s where I’m at! Enjoying life, taking it slow and one day at a time. And trying to keep five kiddos alive…

Let me know what your summer plans are!

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Back When I Hated Gardening

Back when I thought I was Super Mom, I hated gardening. Period.

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I liked fast results. I liked maximum gain with minimal time put in. I liked twice the profit with half the work. And plants don’t grow overnight…

“An utter waste of time!” I thought.

Tilling.

Fertilizing.

Buying topsoil.

Scooping, shoveling, back breaking work.

Spending more money on seeds and plants than I would spend at the grocery store.

Planting.

Watering.

Pulling weeds.

Rocks, Aphids, more watering, more weeds…Ugh. I give up! Not worth it!

Until a couple years ago.

When someone dear gave up on me. When the enemy began to whisper lies: You’re hopeless. You’re not worth it. You’re not worth fighting for. You’re not worth loving. You’re not worth their time!

I then came to my garden to work in silence. And I felt peace.

Why did I start to love gardening?

Because God gently spoke to my heart while I worked. He said, “You are worth caring for! See how you care for this garden? This is how deeply I care for you!” And it became to me the most accurate picture of what God does in our lives: He literally finds a patch of land (our hearts) and slowly begins to work the soil.

Gardens all look different. Some have huge rocks, others are full of clay. Some are overtaken with weeds, others have disease. Some may even have a rattlesnake or two. But God never sees a life where he just throws up his hands and says: “Nope! I give up! This ones just too much work! Not worth it.”

We have infinite value to God. 

Let me say it again: You have immeasurable worth.

You are worth loving.

You are worth saving.

You are worth His time and care.

You are worth it to Him.

And so in my garden, I peacefully work. Often I think the fruit it bears isn’t worth the time. I could probably buy it for less from the store. But then I think of his tenderness and love and I say to myself: “If this garden reminds me of Him, then it’s worth it.”

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It’s Not Ok

Some days can be exhausting as a mother, believe me, I have five kids – I KNOW. And while many times I enjoy the energy and giggles (…ok more like shrieks and screams) in my house, sometimes it just WEARS on you. I know. I sometimes just want to sit in my room in silence and lock all the doors. I GET IT.

But the other day I had a conversation that literally caused me to choke back tears, not because I didn’t relate in some form to the mother, but because I realized at that moment how horribly mean us mothers can be.

Yesterday I was talking to another mom about how her Christmas Break had gone –  and I kid you not, she gave an exaggerated sigh, rolled her eyes and said in a loud voice, “My kids are driving me CRAZY!! They are SO annoying! I just can’t wait until I can give them back to the school to deal with! Like I love them, but I need them gone!”

Stunned at her boldness, I quietly managed out the words, “Oh, that’s too bad.” And looking at my shocked expression, she softened her tone and gave me a smile, “Oh it’s not THAT bad, but it will be nice to have them gone so I can sit in peace again.” And I nodded, regaining my composure and smiled back, “I understand.”

Truthfully though, that conversation has haunted me all day. It broke my heart. Because one thought plagues me…what if her child had overheard her?

What if any child had overheard her?

I can’t imagine the pain of overhearing my own mother say that about me. Luckliy, I grew up in a much different time, where mothers simply didn’t say such things about their children.

Now, that same day, my six-year-old son came back from his Sunday school class with a picture in his hand. On the paper he held there was a question: “What makes you happy?”

His response? “Mom and Dad”

The contrast of those two moments are forever burnt in my memory.

Mothers, it’s okay to have hard days. It’s okay to break down in tears. It’s okay to need space. It’s okay to leave the room. I TOTALLY understand.

But you know what’s not okay? Saying hurtful things about your child. PeriodEven if you’re joking around.

It is OUR JOB to pour out unconditional love on our undeserving littles, not the other way around. But more and more I see the roles being reversed and children loving their parents unconditionally, while their whiny parents complain about having to put up with them.

This is not okay.

I’m so far from perfect, it makes me want to cry. Often I have to go back to my kids and apologize for hurtful and careless things I’ve said…again and again and AGAIN.

But more and more our culture is getting callous to these mean hearted “authentic outbursts.”

Let’s not become callous to them. Let’s not find them funny. Please, let’s just not go there. Because under each tiny child is a soft, tender heart – yearning to be loved by YOU.

So watch your words carefully, Moms, for the sake of your little one who – when asked what makes them happy, responds ever so sweetly: “My mom.”

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I Just Can’t

One of the biggest mysteries to me when I first got saved was how God could actually change who I was.

I always thought: but isn’t it actually me who is changing myself? Aren’t I the one making the decisions to change?

 I think part of the reason we become so confused about the concept of God changing us, is that we confuse obedience with a legalistic form of trying to attain our own righteousness apart from Christ. Obedience is really quite simple, while attaining our own righteousness is impossible.

On one hand, sometimes God will command us to do something that we can do, it’s just that we don’t really want to. Any example of this is when God prompted me the other week to shut down my Facebook account. Sure, I had about twenty good reasons to listen, from privacy issues, to wasted time…but on the other hand, there were just as many why I didn’t want to do this.

What will become of my blog? I wondered. Most of those who read it are reading it because of Facebook.

His answer? You were never supposed to be writing for them anyways…

Ok, God. I hear you. Loud and clear.

I deactivated the account. Not because Facebook is wrong, but because God saw something that needed to be accomplished in my life away from the spotlight of Facebook.

This is the one aspect: God commands, we obey.

The second one is harder though, because it happens when we recognize that our deeply imbedded habits are not lining up with God’s will for our lives. It’s these habits, these behaviours that we turn to when we’re broken and weak, tired or full of shame. This can include things such as addictions to alcohol, media, food, etc. Or it can be attitudes such as pride, bitterness or shame. It can also be reactions like anger, lying, and gossip.

Now, we can try to stop them (in other words try attain our own righteousness) but usually we just continue to fail and indulge in them all them more. Sometimes, the harder we try to stop them, the worse they seem to get. It’s these things that we are powerless to change without remaining in God. We can not do it. We simply will fail again and again.

We can not change our sinful nature. Only the work of Jesus on the cross can. If we actually think we can change ourselves, we have no business pretending that we need the cross.

A week ago, I had a picture while spending time with Jesus. We often talk about laying our sin and burdens down at the foot of the cross, but the picture I received gave me so much more insight into God’s grace.

Here is the picture: I was sitting on a picnic blanket covered in garbage. Not just wrappers and empty soda bottles, but the real rotten, disgusting garbage – representing my sin. The stench of it stung my nose and the horror of the fact the it was all sitting out like this in the open, where everyone could see it brought me into a panic. I quickly scooped it all up so that it was hidden within the blanket and I held it over my shoulder like a sack, looking desperately for a place to get rid of it. I couldn’t carry the load much longer it was so gross and heavy too. In the distance, I saw the cross and I knew what I had to do. Wearily dragging along my garbage, my sin, I came to Jesus. But instead of setting it at his feet, I lifted the load over my head and placed in on his shoulders. The weight of it pulled on the nails in his hands and he groaned. The garbage leaked through the bags dripping down his back. It was soiling him and causing him excruciating pain.

And it was here that the cross became unbelievably personal: MY SIN CAUSED HIM PAIN. ACTUAL PAIN.

It wasn’t just a casual moment like, “Oh hey Jesus, while you’re taking out the trash for everyone else can you take mine out as well?”

It was very real. Very personal. Very humbling. 

But the picture didn’t stop there. As I look up with shame, Jesus then calls out my name. He looks at me with eyes of love and speaks the words, “I love you, Heather. This is why I came.”

This is the view we must have of the cross. Our sin matters a LOT. It caused him pain. But he wants us to come and bring it to him. That was the whole point of the cross! Not a licence to sin more. Not a reason to cower in shame…but a reason to come and repent, to find true freedom and lasting peace!

He didn’t do this all so we could go on living in darkness like the world, doing whatever we please, but so that we could live in light, for him. ALL for him.

“But whatever were gains to me I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I’ve lost all things. I consider them garbage, that I might gain Christ.” Phillipians 3:7-8

It’s at this point where we cling to him, admitting our absolute inability to do anything good at all. In this state of weakness and clinging to him, God begins to work, which is why this confuses us so much…because God’s works cannot be explained!!! 

That’s why we call them miracles.

Salvation itself is a miracle. The greatest of them all.

We think of raising the dead, in the flesh, as being one of the “big” miracles, but in reality I think that is very easy for God to do. He just has to speak the words and life comes forth. But forgiving our sins?? That came at a great price…he had to give his very life!

It’s this ongoing work of the Spirit in our hearts that requires us to cling to him for all we are worth. If we part from the vine, we shrivel up and die. We are fruitless, lifeless, worthless – like a twig snapped off a tree. But when we remain attached to him, we grow, we flourish and we begin to bear fruit.

As much as the world tells me that I can do anything if I just try harder, the cross tells me otherwise.

It says: YOU can’t…but I can. 

 

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Dear Seniors: We Need You

After visiting with my grandparents and my husbands grandmother this weekend, my heart was filled with love, compassion and at the same time with shame. Love at how wise, how gentle, how strong, selfless and caring they are. Compassion at how their strength and memory has faded into at times confusion, helplessness and weakness. Shame in how I’ve often forgotten these precious people who have poured SO much into their families. Shame in how little credit I have given them for the hard work they’ve endured, for the godly values they’ve instilled into their children and grandchildren. And I felt remorse at how little help I’ve offered them throughout the years, when they needed it.

They’ve missed me. And I haven’t always been there.

But surprise was mixed into all the feelings above because when I sat down with them and shared moments reminiscing I had the realization that I desperately need them too. Perhaps even more than they need me. This revelation is what brought me to writing this open letter to the beautiful seniors that live among us.

 

Dear Seniors,

We need you. A lot.

I need you. My eyes fill with tears as I write this.

I am a young Mother. I have the energy that you probably wish you still had. I am in good health, while yours may be starting to fail you. And I’m well aware that many days you just wish you could have the energy, clarity and youth that I still possess. You may be wondering what I could possibly need from you. Maybe you already know what you have to offer, but you have been so forgotten, so pushed to the side, that you no longer feel like anyone’s willing to listen.

If this is you, I’m so so sorry.

The very fact that I have to write this at all, speaks volumes on how much my generation has failed you.

How much I’ve failed you.

When you slowly lose the abilities to do the very things you trained your children to do, when your once strong back gives way, when your once sturdy hands begin to shake, it is then that we seemingly put you into a separate home, to be cared for by strangers and we forget you. I’ve forgotten you. And the sad thing is, that not only has this hurt you, it has hurt my generation as well.

Because we need each other. 

Right now I am in the busiest season of my life: Parenting. Parenting, as you may remember, has it’s ups and downs. It is a beautiful season that flies by all too quickly, you tell me.

And I know you’re right.

I need to hear these reminders because you’ve been here too once, in my stage of life. You once were also swarmed by little children and endless tasks. And in your wisdom you whisper: Enjoy it. Soak it all in. It will soon be over.

You speak words like this to me and I need them, because although you have been in my stage of life, I have never been in yours. You understand what it’s like to see children leave your home, one by one. You understand what it’s like to look back and feel regrets. You understand, looking back, what was important and what wasn’t so important. You understand what makes a marriage last, and what damages one beyond repair. You understand that people are more important than things. You understand that money can’t buy you everything and everything one day fades away into nothing. And I need you to remind me of these things, because when you do, I take these words to heart.

It’s because of words such as these that when my fifth child was born, I wanted to enjoy every moment of his growing up. And at first, this was easy. But as time rolled on, he began to cry and cry. This was a very difficult time for me. He screamed everywhere I would bring him. For almost two years I was unable to meet with people and carry on a full conversation or even participate in a church service. As a result of being so isolated, I was becoming more and more worn down. I felt frazzled everywhere I went. But more than that, I felt alone. So very alone. Sometimes all I wanted was just someone to sit beside me during a service so I could feel like I was a part of the body of Christ as well.

That is, until Mr. Steve.

Many seniors come to a place where they realize that they do not have the energy they used to (even some middle aged folks feel this way). They feel that they are not as fun or as capable as the younger generation to do service, so silently they step back from ministry, feeling like they’ve “done their time” and that they are doing everyone a favour by staying out of the way.

But not Mr. Steve…this sweet older man stepped out and decided to volunteer in the kids ministry at church. And not in just any area either…he braved out the 3s room. That’s right. He was surrounded by approximately 50 toddlers EVERY Sunday morning.

Let me tell you about this kind, gentle man, who realized that his serving time was not “done” but that he had MUCH to offer these precious children.

Mr. Steve wasn’t as “fun” as many of the other helpers. He wasn’t quick on his feet, or as energetic. He had his own way of doing things. But when Emerson came in screaming Sunday after Sunday, Mr. Steve did something that changed everything for me. He gently took my boy, flailing limbs and all, and spent one on one time with him. Every Sunday He would patiently hold, talk to, and play with Emerson, until Emerson would settle down and me and my husband could go into the service. Pretty soon Emerson became Mr. Steve’s “boy”. They would play puzzles and trains together. Mr. Steve would bring his own puzzles from home to give to Emerson as gifts. They developed a very special connection. Mr. Steve didn’t talk much, but his consistent and quiet presence was just what Emerson needed.

Some people may shrug and say, “no big deal! It’s just babysitting!”

Ummm…No. It wasn’t just babysitting.

Mr. Steve’s act of service literally changed everything for our family. Emerson began to enjoy church. He began to see it as a place of warmth and love, not of discouragement and tears. Yes, he still cried most Sundays when we dropped him off, but he settled down quickly. And no matter how sad he felt when we dropped him off, he always had the biggest smile when we picked him up from kids church.

In my own life things changed as well. I could breathe again. Instead of struggling on my own trying to survive the lonely days, I felt refreshed. I was encouraged. I felt like I was a part of Christ’s body, rather than alone on an island. I was strengthened to become the Mother my children needed me to be. It was for only an hour and a half every week, but that little bit of time was all I needed. I was spiritually renewed and I came back able to pour into others (I now also help out in the 3s room)!

All because of one senior who cared.

Dear precious seniors: You MATTER.

Maybe you physically are unable to do something as ambitious as Mr. Steve…but there are LOTS of things you can still do. Because we need you. My children need you. I need you.

I need your wisdom, your advice about marriage, about faith, about the lessons you’ve learnt. Your knowledge and years of experience are like treasure, worth far more than money can buy.

My children need your friendship, your gentle touch, your patient care.

I need your encouragement and your prayers.

We need to see you and remember that life is short, that our busy days will too one day slow down, this reminder in itself brings wisdom and insight.

We need you to remind us that when all is said in done, the only thing that will matter to us is who’s lives we touched, not how fancy our house was, or how stylish our clothes were…not whether we could afford a brand new car or whether we drove an old clunker. None of those things will matter at all, rather one question will remain: Have I been faithful to do my best?

So please, PLEASE, don’t check out. Don’t see yourself as “past your time” or “inconvenient”. Don’t fade out of our lives. Keep calling to talk or to arrange visits. Forgive us when we seem like we’ve forgotten you in our busy schedules. Be patient with us if we forget to visit. It doesn’t mean that we don’t need you. In fact, quite the opposite, it probably means that we need you to remind us all the more to slow down and take time for the people in our lives. Because people like YOU change lives.

I know, because you changed mine.