not to us

I heard him screaming.  It was truly a tantrum to rival all tantrums.  My first thought was, "Oh my goodness!  Why doesn't his mother spank him??"

Then, I saw her.  In her right arm was a baby about the size of Burke, dressed in pink.  Her left arm was attempting to simulatneously reprimand the tantruming four-year-old while removing him from the store, literally kicking and screaming.  Her face was beet red, and she was obviously overwhelmed.  I looked past her, and I saw a mother's worst nightmare: a cart full of forfeited groceries.

My second thought was, "I need to help her."  It was followed closely by, "What will she think??  What will other people think??"

But I didn't stop.  I walked right up to her, and I said, "Is there anything at all I can do to help you?  Can I hold your daughter?  Can I stand with your son while you finish purchasing your groceries?  Can I go buy your groceries and bring them out to your car for you?"

Relief washed over her face, and she handed the baby to me.  I stood right next to her while she got her son settled down, and she completed her mission.  When she was finished, she thanked me.

-------------------------

"Jones, party of 1."

He got off the stool, shoulders slightly slumped, and headed to the hostess stand.  My heart began to scream.  What if that was my Daddy?  What if that was my husband??  I would want SOMEONE, ANYONE to care for them and invite them to dinner.

"Mom, do you mind if I invite him to eat with us?"

"Not at all."

"Okay, I'm going."

As I snaked through the aisles of the restaurant seating, my head was screaming, "You are nuts!  He is going to think you are crazy!!"

But my feet marched forward while my eyes searched for him.

When I found him, I waited for his server to finish announcing the daily specials.  I walked up to his table and leaned close to him.

"Sir, I don't want to seem too odd or forward, but my family and I would like to invite you to eat dinner with us.  There are six of us, so we have a 30-35 minute wait, but if that doesn't bother you, we'd love to give you some company tonight."

The tears welled up in his eyes as one made it's lonely way down his cheek.

"That is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.  Thank you so much.  I think I will pass on the offer, but I really appreciate it."

"It's not a problem at all.  If you change your mind, we'll keep a seat open for you.  God Bless."

I patted his hand and walked back out to the lobby.

As we were finishing our dinner, Mike got my attention and pointed him out.  Mr. Jones was walking toward our table.

"I just wanted to thank you again."

We visited for a very short bit, and he was on his way.

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Both of these true situations have happened within the past week.  Each time, I felt God giving my heart a direction while my head screamed at the perceived lunacy of the suggestions.  Each time, every prideful and insecure bone in my body wanted to stay in my seat, ignoring the way my heart was hurting for these perfect strangers.  Each time, I found my feet moving and my mouth speaking before my head had a chance to stop me.

Each time, I believe God used me (an overweight, out of shape wife and mother who talks too much, forgives too little, and lacks self-control) to minister to someone else's need.

I'm desperate to be used again.  I want to SHOW people the love of God.  I want to BE His hands, His feet, His mouth.  I want people to KNOW that He loves them.

In order for God to be known by more people...

In order for more people to know and feel the love of an all-powerful God...

I'll become a fool in the eyes of the world.  (2 Samuel 6:20-22)

And when God calls my heart to go, I will not allow my head to force me to stop.

This I vow.

Are you going?  Or are you stopping?

I implore you:  Don't Stop!