Tag: Love

Because of Love

Published on by JackieLeave a comment

Someone asked me a question a few days ago that’s still circling in my mind.

Sharing a traditional American Thanksgiving meal, the table conversation drifted to the mission program I recently joined.

“So – why this mission? Why did you leave everything and move here to this specific mission?”

I honestly didn’t have an answer on the tip of my tongue. Nothing concise and intelligent sounding, anyway.

Why did I come, anyway?

Why, when it tore my heart to pieces to leave my little nephews and nieces behind?

Why, when going to church every Sunday morning reminded me for weeks that my home congregation is far away?

Why, when I had so many close friends around me, did I move here where I have to build new relationships?

I didn’t say any of that, I simply told the story of how God aligned people and events to guide my steps here.

The shortest answer to the question really is, “God clearly called me here. I knew its where I’m meant to be for this season of life.”

But it’s so much more.

Maybe it’s because a resident prayed every day for over a year that I would get my visa approval, so that I could volunteer here.

Maybe it’s because of a young lady who just moved in and needs someone to teach her how to pray. She wants to tell Jesus her thoughts but isn’t sure how. Maybe it’s the joy of demonstrating to her that she can talk to Him like a friend in the room – and seeing her eyes light up as she discovers a new way to communicate with God.

It might be because of the opportunity to walk with someone to their table in the dining room, so that they don’t have to go alone.

Or the laughter around the piano when Christmas carols go waaaay off key – but no one judges anyone for that, because every voice in our choir is making a joyful noise to the Lord.

Maybe I came here to listen to hearts who are missing parents who have passed away. I know my heart is full with emotion when I hear, “Thanks for taking time to talk today, Jackie. It made me feel better.”

I know I came here for the bedtime prayers. To see tears of happiness on weathered cheeks when they hear me thanking God for creating them to be who they are.

I came here to say I love you. To say it often, because they don’t hear it enough. Sometimes I hear a soft whisper, “I love you, too.”

Other times I learn new things about myself. For example, I am useless, fat, stupid – and a chatterbox. I don’t mind. I rather enjoy seeing what they’ll come up with to call me next 😉 and, we all need to vent somewhere. I’m one of the only faces some of these people see in a day – of course they’ll vent the frustrations of life on me. Maybe I came here to be their listening ear, too.

When I think about why I came here, and all the things that fill my heart to overflowing every day, I know why I’m here.

I came because of love.

Because Jesus loves me.

Because I love Him.

And His love is the kind that fills a heart until it overflows.

If we love Him, we will love others – wherever He calls us to love, we will go.

And that’s why I’m here.

That’s why I could leave my family, my church, my friends, my home.

That’s why my heart could hurt, without breaking.

Because it wasn’t rooted in any of the things I left. It’s rooted only in love – in Jesus – and so it can survive any transplanting.

I can go where He leads.

I can be stretched painfully through a transition season and still be filled with His love.

Why did I choose this particular mission?

Because these precious people – these lonely, forgotten souls – are so thirsty for love.

It’s the best place to pour my overflowing heart.

How Beautiful

Published on by JackieLeave a comment

This post is slightly overdue, but my heart and mind needed a few days to let the emotions settle before I could process them in words.

A bridesmaid bouquet adorns my kitchen table, not quite as fresh as yesterday, but still beautiful. I pulled it out of the vase tonight, just to smell the roses, to play with the ribbons, and smile again at the memories of when it was fresh and new on Saturday morning…

Just before the sun came up, I drove to a familiar home once again. I had the honor of driving my bestie to the photo location for her wedding, witnessing their first look, then standing with the wedding party for photos.

The drive there was filled with heartfelt conversations, giving her the wedding gift I had carefully chosen, and a playlist of her favourite songs I had created with her suggestions.

Close friendships are beautiful.

We’ve shared momentous occasions that we had in common, and some we have not, but we’re always there for each other.

There were seasons it came easily to relate to each other, but in the last year, our paths have been vastly different as our lives took changing directions.

Yet we’re closer than ever, and it was so good to celebrate her marriage with her.

She had a gift for me, too, that morning.

There was one song in her playlist I hadn’t heard before, and when it came on, she told me to listen, because it’s what she wants her bridesmaids to know.

So her sister and I, the bridesmaids, listened while she sang along.

“Like a treasure in the deep, your heart is a diamond

And your Hero will do what it takes to find it so He can hold it tenderly.

And become your Defender

He even laid down His life just to make your heart His.”

Could there be anything more beautiful in friendship, than a bride reminding her bridesmaids of their worth and identity on her wedding day?

Every little girl dreams of her wedding, but not every girl gets married. So when girls grow up, it’s so important that they know Who they truly belong to.

Regardless of where we are today or what our future brings, we all are fully known, fully loved, fully chosen – and precious to our Creator.

Weddings often focus on romance, but witnessing Christian marriage is so much more than that.

When two godly people form a Kingdom union, every witness is reminded of the relationship between Christ and the Church.

The way his love creates a secure place for her heart to call home..

The way her devotion and adoration let him know she is committed to him forever…

The way he accepts her, just as she is, and always protects her…

The way she puts effort into presenting herself perfect, because she wants him to have the very best she can be… (and truly, my besties husband married a gem. Just saying.😉)

All these things should point every one of us to a greater Love story.

The story of a Creator pursuing the hearts of His unfaithful, flawed, rebellious creation, literally going to His own death just to win us back.

A Creator Who so desperately didn’t want to spend eternity without us that He entered our world so that we could share His.

Can I complete my end of the story? Am I doing my best to be perfect, so that I don’t cause any blemishes to be seen in His Bride, the church?

Does my level of adoration for my King and devotion to Him convince others that I’m committed forever?

Someday, my name will be called to another wedding feast, and every one of us who has accepted His redeeming love offer will have a seat at the bridal table.

His protection of my heart as I surrender it to Him is a security greater than anyone in earth can offer me – and when I see His face, I will know without a doubt I am finally home.

On that day we’ll all rise as one, and everyone will focus together on the beauty of our King.

The celebration then will be so much grander than anything here…

The security of coming home to Eternal Love will be beyond anything any bride has ever known…

The adoration we feel for Jesus will be greater than ever when our earthly eyes are finally opened to see the magnitude of His love…

And it will be beautiful.

So very beautiful.

How beautiful that every one of us has this in common.

And until then, we are all just walking each other home.

They Call Me Mom

Published on by JackieLeave a comment

My people are all sleeping.

Blankets were tucked around wrinkly chins, gray hair was brushed into ponytails for the night, and shaky arms reached up to hug me before I turned out the light.

I held hands larger than my own and prayed bedtime prayers for a good night of pain free, restful sleep.

They’re not my children.

Most of them are old enough to be my grandparents, or at least my parents.

But they call me, “Mom.”

Sometimes they say it teasingly, but there’s an underlying note of seriousness. And other times, depending what they’ve just asked me to do for them, there’s a depth of emotion in their voice when they say, “thank you – Mom.”

A lot of the residents in the care home where I volunteer are children at heart.

They remained dependent on their parents into adulthood, and still need to be mothered. But their moms have either passed away, or are too elderly to care for them anymore, and so they are here to receive the care they need.

I wish I could have met the moms represented by the people I serve.

These women who must have been wonderfully dedicated mothers, for how affectionately they’re spoken of by their now-elderly children.

These women who knew just how to tuck the sheets, and which kind of bedtime snack, and how to soothe a hurting heart.

I’m trying to learn these things about each resident, because they deserve to feel at home. I come here to work; they live here. This is home to them, and we need to provide care with all the homey touches their moms had.

It’s daunting.

But I love them. And even though it’s challenging, and not always easy, I’m determined to love them well.

Whenever I’m faced with a task that’s not so appealing, I remind myself that this person was created by Jesus. I visualize Him kneeling beside this bed, or pushing this wheelchair, or cleaning up this floor.

And I ask, “How would Jesus love this person?”

I can never replace their mothers that they still miss so much.

I certainly can’t know and meet their needs in perfection like Jesus would.

But maybe, with the daily challenge to do each act of service the way Jesus would, I can provide care that lets them know without a doubt: they are precious, and they are loved.

I know one thing for sure: they fill my heart.

And, out of all the names I get called in a day (trust me, there’s a wide variety) I always smile when they call me “Mom.”

Embracing Brokenness

Published on by Jackie1 Comment

Sitting cross legged on a dirty floor with a hysterical child in my arms, my thoughts had time to wander as I rocked rhythmically back and forth.

I never imagined that this is how I would find wholeness – that this is where I would feel joy again.

I always thought it was the strong people, those with vibrant life and love beating in their hearts who are used to minister to the broken ones.

Who knew that a broken heart is capable of loving more deeply, more protectively, more compassionately?

Is this what God meant by working all things together for good?

Is it possible that my own brokenness could be healed through binding up others’ wounds?

The little girl sobbing in my arms, screaming herself to exhaustion, pauses to check if I’m angry with her yet. I’m not. She examines my calm face, bewildered, then resumes the tantrum, with slightly less force…

There are tears in my eyes, too. She doesn’t know that I understand the anger, the frustration she feels for all that has been taken away. And that that’s why I just hold her, and keep rocking, and don’t condemn her for expressing her pain.

It’s valid. I won’t ask her to be okay with everything she’s lost and all that’s happened to her, because it’s not okay.

Instead I whisper soothing words to her, words of affirmation, of love, of reassurance, and not a word of the judgement or anger she is constantly expecting to hear.

She doesn’t trust me yet, but I’m fine with that. I don’t expect her to.

God knows I don’t always trust that life, or people, or things can be good, either, and He’s been patient with me through many spiritual tantrums.

So by His grace I’ll be patient with her… and keep working to earn her trust.

After a long time, she finally relaxes and leans against me. Her angry sobs settle into heartbroken weeping as she tells me about the things that have been cruelly taken from her.

She leans her head on my chest where my aching heart beats inside, and there’s a rich kind of joy in place of the emptiness, because as I cradle this brokenness close, I realize I feel perfectly complete.

So many people only see the angry outbursts – but they’re not foreign to me. I hear the crying, wounded heart inside, and I get how the deep pain becomes anger that life has hurt so much, and if all that emotion has nowhere to go, these tantrums will be the result.

Anger at pain, as an emotion, isn’t wrong. It’s what we do with it. For this precious girl, she sometimes needs a safe place to cry, to just let it out…

For myself, ministering to her wounds is the best way to pour out my own emotions and mend my own broken places.

I never really understood how healing could come through giving. But it’s a concept meant to be lived, not taught, for true understanding to come.

No amount of self care can ever heal a heart the way caring for others will.

Maybe, instead of fighting our pain to mend the brokenness, we will be healed by embracing it, holding it close, weeping together, and mending each other through it all.

Maybe the little bit of love we have to offer shines brighter if we give it to those in the darkest places…

Oddly… Relatable

Published on by JackieLeave a comment

What are the requirements for a friendship to form between individuals?

This question has been on my mind lately as a new, unlikely friendship has been forming in my life.

Do you have to share a culture? A worldview? Do your beliefs have to agree? Or at least, you have some similar interests?

Ideally, sure. These things promote conversation material, which can certainly build your bond.

But I’m realizing that these things are not the main requirement for friendship. In fact, vast differences can exist and connections can still bridge the distance with ease.

Think about this… people are all created by the same God, with the same need in our hearts for love and acceptance.

Maybe focusing on meeting that need first is the basis for a friendship to begin?

Today I drove to the city again, through the business section streets into steadily poorer residential areas until I reached my destination. I parked my car in the visitor section, rode the elevator to the fifth floor, and walked down the hallway to the unit I was visiting.

I was assigned to this family by the organization I’m working for, but my heart loves them all way more than just an “assignment.”

As I fed the infant her bottle, trusting brown eyes gazing back at me… lotioning her coffee-coloured body after her bath & hearing the music of her baby giggles (that tickles my tummy!)… brushing through her coarse but adorable black curls… my heartstrings have no trouble attaching to this precious miracle of God.

The five year old – no single adjective can describe this bundle of defiant, tender-hearted, independent, scared, guarded, loveable child. She’s mature beyond her years, doesn’t trust easily, and desparately needs love poured into the darkness that is her life. No matter how rough she may try to convince me that she is, I see her heart. And when she whispers, “I just need a hug,” my own heart swells as I realize how quickly this dear girl moved right in to my heart…

And finally, their mom. A beautiful lady, broken in so many ways, but precious to her Maker.

Our differences… vast, by human standards. And that’s an understatement!

But that’s just because people look at the outer person. God sees our hearts, and when He looks at both of us, He sees a wounded heart in need of love.

In God’s sight, we’re both prone to sin, we both have joys and sorrows, we both need Him.

And although our backgrounds are polar extremes, we are similar in personality. We somehow click.

I realized it today after we shared a laugh about an amusing moment, so I mentioned it to her.

“You know, this might sound odd, but I’m starting to think you’re a lot like me in some ways.”

She laughed, motioned between us – the difference in our appearances, dress, tatoos or lack thereof, hairstyles, etc is startling to an onlookeer – and replied, “I know. It’s shocking to say this, but… you’re oddly… relatable. I didn’t expect that.”

So, it turns out that humans are humans. People are people. No matter what we wear, believe, or live like.

What if the basis for friendship is to first of all love and accept eachother as we are?