Cookies in the Yard

It's easy to show God's love to most of our neighbors. Like today, I finished up painting a fence for one of our elder church members. The mission group had started the project, but ran out of time. I volunteered to complete the job.

It was fun to spend time with this woman; she's funny and interesting. She sat on her porch and chatted with me while I painted. We shared some stories and talked about serving God. I brought her some muffins I had made, and she appreciated them. I know she'll mention the fence to me on Sunday, with a thank-you for finishing the job.

She's easy to serve; it's easy to express God's love to her. I'll be back later in the summer to work on painting her porch, which looks like it needs it, now that the fence is freshly painted. Easy peasy.

Not so much "easy peasy" when a man wandered through our yard this afternoon, obviously intoxicated. My husband greeted this man, and he sat down at our patio table to chat. I don't know what they talked about, I was getting supper ready, but I know they chatted for a while.

I stopped by a couple of times to say hello. I was introduced to the man, and he tried to engage me in a conversation about basketball (I think). After listening for a bit, I excused myself to continue supper preparations.

In cleaning up the counter, I realized I had fresh-baked cookies... so I stacked a bunch on a paper plate and took them out to the guys. Just a little thing, but God has called us to serve all of the Jicarilla Apache people here in Dulce... not just the easy-peasy ones. Maybe even especially the difficult ones. The messy ones. The drunk ones. The lost ones.

I am blessed to serve God's will in the Jicarilla Apache Nation. I am His, not my own. May He work through me in every circumstance.

Hands

I've always loved hands. I remember my grandmother's hands: warm, solid, and loving. I remember the first time I saw that my mother's hands were aging; the fear that filled my heart at the thought of losing her someday. My first hand-holding... his hands were cool in mine.

Hands playing flutes... trumpets... drums...



And oh! The beautiful mommy hands touching and holding our newest granddaughter, who was born three months early... and her own tiny, miracle hands!






And my hands, working in glass, bring me great pleasure. I love the feel of glass, the snap of cutting and breaking glass, the texture of glazing, the pressure of grinding...



And then there are the hands that were here in Dulce last week.

 Approximately thirty people from the Denver (Colorado, not Iowa!) area loaded their cars, trucks, and a small bus, and came down to Dulce to help at our church.




They ran a fabulous VBS for the children of Dulce;

They cleaned...

                       They served,
                                 they raked,
                                        they painted,
                                                  they lifted...




  They drank coffee together,



They fed.....
            they hugged....
                       they built and rebuilt steps and ramps.



It was amazing and wonderful to be on the receiving end of such giving in the name of Jesus.


 The blessing of these hands in this place is gratefully accepted.


We pray that these lovely people were as blessed to be here as we were blessed to have them.