Tuesday, July 10, 2012

My day...

Today was one of those nonstop days. You know, where you blink and the day is over and you're still not sure you really did all the things you did.

My day today started with an early coffee get-together with a friend who's struggling to lend a supportive, listening ear.  I happened across a homeless friend on my way home so I stopped and made him sit in my car with me to chat and get out of the rain for a few minutes.  Great news! He should have a housing voucher by the end of the month.  Headed home to clean our basement like CRAZY (my brother is coming this weekend... the cleaning wasn't for him - he might be bringing his new girlfriend!!).  But then I got word of a crisis with another homeless friend. I thought for a second I was going to have to run out the door with the kids but thankfully was able to wait till Rob came home so I could go out by myself. Headed to the hospital to pray over one of my homeless friends who is stable after surgery but still crazy sedated.  Decided to head to his tent city to check on everybody.  Spent some time with them, checking in, praying for our friend in the hospital and each other.  Then managed to get turned around downtown (yes, I've lived here seven years) while trying to return a phone call from a family member of my friend in the hospital.

Somewhere in the middle of all that I talked to a different hospital about a different friend who was being discharged today to a rehabilitation facility. And went to the post office. And the kids and I did a painting craft. Which means at one point I was on the phone with someone at Baptist while saying "Hold on baby, don't touch your face!" to Amani, who had managed to get paint all over his hands (and his face) in the two seconds it took for me to answer the phone.


But this is what living for Jesus looks like. It means being open to the mess and hurt of other people's lives.  It means listening, going, visiting,  hurting, praying.  It even means coming home smelling like alcohol and cigarettes (from hugging my friends at the tent city).  It means tearing up when you see your friend with a bandaged head, tubes everywhere, sedated so that he doesn't even know you're there.  It means visiting friends at a tent city and having them ask you why you haven't brought your kids back by in awhile.

But the best part? I checked my voicemail on my way home. There was a message from my friend, the one who sat in the car with me this morning to get out of the rain. He just wanted to say hi, tell me how his day went. And the message ended like this: "I appreciate you."

God is good, even on my most hectic of days. I've been praying "less of me Lord, and more of you." Today is what it looks like when that prayer is answered.

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