The Interloper, The Charging Dog, and The Clear Glimpses of God They Gave

Sam Wiley has a new dog. I'm not sure the dog doesn't belong to someone else, but it doesn't have a collar and it hasn't been neutered.

Sam had complained about being lonely, so, at dinner one night, I prayed that God would send him some company. Sam agreed with a hearty amen. I meant HUMAN company, which God knew, but it seems like He had a different idea. 

A few days later, Sam came over for dinner. "I think I got me a dog."

"You bought a dog? Where did you get a dog, Sam?"

"It just come up to my house and started hanging around."

"Don't you think that's your neighbor's dog?"

"Nah. If it were, they'd have bought him a collar."

I didn't have a good argument for that theory, so I asked to see the dog. "You can't see him unless he comes around. He just comes when he wants to."

"Sam, that's not much like having a dog."

"It's enough for me."

This went on for weeks. Sam bought dog food and started leaving it out. The dog started eating it and running off. Before long, the dog gained weight, "slicked off" (Sam's term), and started hanging around Sam's house. 

"That dog needs a name, Sam."

"Yeah, but I can't think of a name." 

I didn't have a ready name, so we asked Ryan. He couldn't think of a name, either, so he asked his girlfriend, Hannah. "She says name him Benny." 

We did. Benny learned his name pretty quick. Sam did not. Sometimes he called him Danny. Sometimes he called him Dog. It was a different name every time. 

Benny didn't seem to mind. In fact, he really liked Sam and started following him to the barn. That wasn't exactly a good thing, since Benny quickly developed a love for chicken-chasing, following closely by chicken-shaking, which always leads to chicken-killing. 

I'm down two more chickens. If it weren't for Sam, Benny would be banned from the farm.

Yesterday, Sam decided to spring a surprise on me. 

I had come home early and was working on my computer in the kitchen. The Wonder Dogs had gone outside to sun on the patio. We were having a peaceful and very productive afternoon when Sam opened the back door and motioned for the leashes.

"You taking the dogs for a walk?"

"Yeah, but I thought I'd let them meet my dog first. I'm just gonna let them loose together and see how it works out."

"Sam, I don't think that's a good idea. Maggie's..." Before I could say another word, Maggie noticed Benny sneaking up on her and went into Ninja-dog mode. She jumped up, every hair on her back standing straight up, started barking like crazy, and charged Benny, who's at least three times her size. 

He was so shocked that he stared at her for a few seconds. When he realized the crazed pint-sized Shih Tzu was about to jump on him, he turned and ran for his life. Maggie was right behind him.

Mamie was frolicking with the cat, as usual, and missed the initial exchange. When she heard Maggie bark, though, she took out to help her. 

Benny ran wide-open. Maggie was only a few feet behind him, a look of utter determination in her eyes. She meant business. That interloper was leaving her territory.

I ran after them, leashes dangling from my hand. When I rounded the house, I realized there was no hope of catching the dogs. I started yelling. "STOP! STOP!" 

All three dogs ignored me.

"Mamie sit." I didn't have much hope for this command, but I gave it a try. 

Miracles still happen. 

She was at least twenty yards ahead, but Mamie sat. I raced up to her and snapped a leash on her, then started running again. Mamie wasn't impressed with the pace, but she managed to keep up.

The sit command worked so well on Mamie that I decided to try it again. Maggie headed down the hill by the tractor shed. Only one little hillock separated her and Benny from the road. The very busy road.

"Maggie, sit."

She stopped, made a quarter turn, and stared at me. I stopped, pointed my finger at her and gave her the hand signal for sit. "Maggie, Sit." I stood as still as a stone and held my breath.

She completed her turn with the grace of a beauty pageant contestant in swimsuit competition, paused, and sat. As I clipped the leash on her (and rejoiced over the great obedience training school we'd attended), I saw Benny stop and look back. When he realized the chased had ended and he was safe, he loped off to Sam's house.

The Wonder Dogs and I walked back toward the house where Sam waited for us. 

"I didn't expect all that," he said.

"Well, it happened so fast I couldn't warn you."

"I thought she was gonna eat my dog up."

"Maggie would wade into a pack of coyotes if they got between us. She's born to protect her human. You can't spring a strange dog on her like that and expect it to go well."

Sam grinned. He loves just about everything Maggie does. "Yeah. I see that now."

There's more than one lesson to learn from this crazy story, but the one I'm teaching is about how ferocious a little dog can be about protecting her human. That ferocity didn't just happen, and it wasn't taught in obedience school. That fierce protectiveness is a God-given trait placed in dogs like Maggie before they are born by the One who created dogs in the first place.

Scripture tells us that nature declares the glory of God. I believe that animals, clearly a part of nature, also demonstrate the truth of God to a world that's often too blind to see. 

If dogs sense danger from an interloper and respond, how much more must God respond when His children encounter danger, even when that danger is self-imposed? 

Much more.  

If dogs respond immediately, how much faster does God respond?

Infinitely faster.

We do not serve a dog-sized God. We serve the God who keeps the stars in the sky and the earth rotating around the sun. He controls everything in the universe. The things we know about and the things we don't. 

He's too much for us to comprehend, yet He knows us. By name. 

He cares about us. Individually. 

He loves us. Unconditionally.

This God loved us enough to give His only Son to pay our sin debt. Despite that terrible price, He still cares about lonely old men and prissy, silver-haired women. He still cares about little children with no shoes (this is a hint for later) and mothers who struggle to make ends meet.

He loves us. 

When Maggie the Wonder Dog races around to try to save me from a danger that exists only in her mind, she reminds me of the unconditional love of a God that knows me, responds at the first instant I call, and cares about every moment of my future. And yours. 

Even if the only glimpse you've had of God is from a sweet dog, please know that the glimpse you've had is not even a sliver of the full picture of our great God.


If you've known Him for years, today, stop to thank Him for His incredible love and constant care. Remember that He has a plan and He wants us to follow it. It's made in our best interest and perfectly designed for our benefit. We can trust Him and His plan.

I don't always like how God's plan proceeds, but I'm always better for it. You will be, too. 

So, today, let's trust the One who uses the things of nature to show us His glory and thank Him for the glimpses He gives of His great love.

"For since the creation of the world His invisible attributes, His eternal power and divine nature, have ben clearly seen, being understood through what has been made so that they are without excuse." Romans 1:20 nasb
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In case you missed it, here's the link to yesterday's post: When the Answer I Needed Was Already Written in the Margin

#God #Maggiethewonderdog

The Granola That Changed My Day

This adventure I'm sharing with Sam (my elderly neighbor) has been quite a change for both of us. 

If you've been reading the blog for a while, you know that Sam's wife of 60 years died back in October. Since then, I've been looking out for him, as I gave my word I'd do. That promise was given in 1989, when we were both much younger, but a promise is a promise, and I've tried to live by it. 

Sam always says, "You're only as good as your word." I intend for my word to be as good as I wish I were.

Because of that decades-old promise, I've helped manage his finances, pay his bills, and buy his groceries. When he stopped driving because of his poor vision, I became his driver. When cooking was too much of a challenge, I became his cook.

Lest you think I'm doing a noble deed, let me dispel that thought. Sam is probably the greatest man who's ever lived. The joy and the blessing are all mine. He's already given me far more than I'll ever give to him. After all these years, we're family and there's lots of love in our relationship.

Sam, at 86, likes to eat "country cooking". He wants sausage and eggs for breakfast. Preferably accompanied by homemade biscuits and gravy. I prefer homemade yogurt and granola with a little fruit. 

Sam likes well-cooked peas, turnip greens, and cornbread. I like my vegetables a little crunchy, and my bread gluten-free.

It's been quite a change for us both, even though Sam agreed to eat whatever I cooked without complaining. I've tried to cook his favorites, but they aren't my usual fare. He's stuck to his bargain, despite my struggles, and has learned to eat cottage cheese and tuna salad, among a variety of new foods.

Day before yesterday, I fretted about our menus all day long. I couldn't think of a single thing I wanted that would also be palatable to Sam. I prayed about it. I cried about it. I whined about it.

After dinner (which wasn't Sam's favorite, and which, after my modifications, wasn't my favorite either), I was downcast. Okay, pitiful might be closer to the truth. Sam had balked at spinach madeline (too spicy) and didn't much care for spaghetti, either. He ate it with a smile and a thank you, but admitted it wasn't his favorite.

I realize, in the big scheme of things, the menu is not important at all. I know that better than most, because I've spent hours this week reviewing all the terrorist attacks of 2016. I've been sick with grief. Maybe that's why I needed something to feel familiar.

I plopped down in my comfy chair and blinked back tears. "I don't know how to do it, Lord. This is hard." There wasn't any one thing that was hard. It was the accumulation of responsibility, and fear of the future that had me rattled. The new schedule. Cooking three meals a day. Continuing to write and do all the other things I do. Rhythm and balance had been hard to achieve.

"I don't know what to do. Just tell me something. Anything. I'll do it."

This sounds crazy as I write it, but the thing that came in my mind was a picture of my orange-pecan granola recipe. "Granola? What kind of answer is that, Lord?" 

I'm not sure that making granola was a word from God, but it definitely helped me. I laughed so hard that all my despair faded as I preheated the oven, gathered my ingredients, and went to work. In less than 30 minutes, the granola was cooling and the aroma of brown sugar, cinnamon, and freshly grated nutmeg filled the house. 

Yesterday, Sam heated the sausage and eggs I'd prepared for his breakfast and I had homemade yogurt, granola, and fruit. He ate at his house and I ate at mine. (He likes to eat breakfast about 8 am. I like to eat breakfast at 5:30) For just a few minutes, life felt normal again to both of us, and it was enough. 

I still find it hard to believe how much emotional strength I gained from that granola, but it was exactly as much as I needed. God knew what would make the biggest different, and that's what He gave. Admittedly, I had to cook it, but even that was therapeutic.

What's equally amazing is that Sam had a container of left over tuna salad and another of leftover creamed style corn. He combined the two and heated it up as a kind of tuna casserole. "It was delicious," he told me later. Sam prepared a meal for himself and it felt like normal to him, too.

We were both equipped to go a little further on this journey of life we're doing together.

It's easy to forget, but we serve an on-time God who loves us and provides everything we need, exactly when we need it. Whether it's finances, strength, or encouragement, our Lord is able to supply, and He does. Every single time.

Sam and I have seen that truth over and over again. This isn't how either of us expected life to be. Sometimes, it's just plain hard. The sweetness, though, outweighs all our struggles. There's not a day that I'm not grateful for Sam, nor him for me. No matter what we decide to eat. 

Just in case you thought Sam is missing out, today we're eating breakfast together. Eggs, sausage, biscuits, and gravy. All his favorites. 

"Consider it all joy, my brethren, who you encounter various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance. And let endurance have its perfect result, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing." 

James 1:2-4 nasb

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In case you missed it, here's the link to yesterday's post: There's Still Good in the Midst of Evil
Here's a link to The Prayer List 
#persevere #SamWiley #disciple #loveoneanother

The Wheelchair Hike

Ryan was home for a visit recently. His 15-year-old dog is dying, his thirty-year-old horse is losing weight and slowing down, and Sam is increasingly frail. Ryan wanted to visit, but he also came to say some good-byes. Ole Lou will be gone before he returns, and Toby (his horse) may be, too.

More important, Sam's health is precarious. Ryan wanted some quality time while he could still have it. We packed an incredible array of activities with Sam into those few days. 

One of the activities we had planned was a trek on the Tanglefoot Trail. "We could take Sam if you want," I suggested.

"He'd like that, but how could he walk that far?"

"Take him in the wheelchair." 

Ryan didn't hesitate. "That's a great idea. I'll push him."

We walked a 5K route. Ryan pushed Sam in the wheelchair the entire way. They both loved it. Afterward, we were sweaty and tired, so we stopped for coffee before driving to the blueberry farm in Pontotoc. We picked three buckets of berries and laughed the entire time about Sam, his double vision, and how to decide which of the double-vision berries to pick. 

It was a wonderful day. We laughed, and reminisced, and enjoyed the time together. 

Later that evening, Sam called. "I sure had a good day today. Thank you for including me." 

"It wouldn't have been as much fun without you." I said it because I meant it. Sam rounded out the day's events in a way that made the entire experience richer and sweeter.

It was harder to do the trail pushing a wheelchair, but Ryan never complained. It was slower to pick the berries and watch out for Sam, but no one minded. He's family and greatly loved. 

"When I'm Sam's age and you're picking berries and hiking trails, I hope you put me in a wheelchair and drag me along, too," I told Ryan the next day.

He laughed and hugged me. "Don't worry. I will."

Time is short. We tried to make the most of the days we have left together. It's the way we're meant to live, regardless of how frail our bodies or how long our life expectancy.

Love while you can. Laugh while there's time. Hug and smile and enjoy each other, for life can end in an instant and regrets can last a long time.

"This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you."

John 15:12 esv

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In case you missed it, here's the link to yesterday's post: The Teacakes That Changed the World 
#loveoneanother #disciple #SamWiley #love

The Very Surprising Day

Just when I think I've seen it all, good and bad, and won't be surprised again, I am. Yesterday was one of those days when I had one sweet surprise after another. 

I helped in Bible school yesterday morning. It was the last day of a chaotic week. I'd helped one particular group of little boys with their crafts almost every day, but, in retrospect, I don't think I'd ever introduced myself. 

The cutest little boy came up to me and said, "Miss Leanna, will you help me?" I was stunned that he not only knew my name, but had bothered to remember it. A few hot tears stung my eyes. I blinked them back and bent down to look at his work.

He knew my name. It always touches my heart when people know me, but the One that stuns me most is that God knows my name. He was intimately acquainted with me before I was born, and still is. 

He knows me, inside out.

Later that afternoon, Sam and I went to the lake to feed the fish. Remember the bread that filled my car recently? We took two loaves of bread with us and, one slice at a time, wadded the bread into balls and threw it into the water. Since Sam can't see well, he made a rule that I had to throw my bread between two particular clumps of grass. That's so he can see the fish when they come up to eat the bread.

I'm not an accurate thrower, so my bread went everywhere. Occasionally, though, I could get my bread-wad where he wanted it. A particularly large wad, thrown in just the right place, attracted the big catfish that lurked nearby. He jumped part-way out of the water, grabbed the bread, and made a little twist. We could see his shiny white belly. The big splash made Sam laugh.

I was, once again, surprised by the joy he finds in the simplest of things. When I grow up, I hope I have that same sense of joy and wonder.

We were almost through feeding when my phone rang. It was The Hired Hand.

"Hey, y'all come on up to the barn. I'm taking Sam for a hayride."

We'd talked about the hayride in general terms, but I hadn't expected it yesterday. Sam was thrilled. The Hired Hand and His Son had everything arranged. There were bales of hay on the trailer and a traveling rug over the hay. A rope was attached from front to back so we could hang on in case it got bumpy, which was a good thing.

If you had seen Sam's face, you'd have wept with joy for him. He hadn't been to the back of the farm since he broke his hip several years ago. 

It was the thing he most wanted in the world. The Hired Hand knew that, so he made it happen. 

Sam reminisced about his early days on the farm, told stories that made us both laugh, and made a plan about picking blackberries that was so fanciful we laughed again. He talked about his deceased wife's blackberry pie and, for the first time, there was more peace than sorrow. 

Nothing that happened was "big" by the world's standards but, by my standards, it was all precious. The sweetest of all was the look on Sam's face as he rode through the land he'd helped to clear.

"I could ride through here on the tractor and think through everything. It was the most peaceful place in the world. I loved it here."

The Hired Hand turned back from the tractor. "I do that, Sam. I love it, too."

Old man and younger, joined by faith and friendship and love of the land. It was the way we're meant to live, and the beauty of it surprised me all over again. 

As we drove across the land, I realized that, to Sam, that hayride was evidence that our Lord knows his name, too. Yesterday, with the Hired Hand and His Son's help, He gave Sam the desires of his heart.

When God created us, I believe He intended to make people like Sam. Kind. Loving. Generous. People who loved and protected the land and all His creatures. It's a simple life but, if you ask Sam, it's the best life of all.

Love God. Live simply. Take Joy in it all. 

That's Sam's motto, and it's a good one to have. 

"Trust in the Lord, and do good; 

Dwell in the land and cultivate faithfulness.

Delight yourself in the Lord, 

and He will give you the desires of your heart." 

Psalm 37:3,4 nasb

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In case you missed it, here's the link for yesterday's post: Over in an Instant

#disciple #surprisingday #SamWiley #linesfromleanna

Lessons from Sam: The Importance of Your Word

    

Today is the last in our Sam Series, at least for a while. There's been such a nice response that Sam will definitely be featured again. I'm glad you've loved him, because I surely do.

I asked Sam what his best piece of advice was. What he said didn't surprise me at all.

"You're only as good as your word, so keep it."

Sam's lived that way as long as I've known him, and I suspect his father before him lived that way, too. Sam's yes is always yes. His no is always no.

If he says he'll do something, he does it. If he says he won't do something, he won't.

He handled his marriage that way and he handles every other aspect of his life that way, too. Because of his faithfulness to his word, I know I can count on him.

The reason Sam lives this way is two-fold. First, it's the right thing to do. Second, it's the way God behaves toward us. 

"God is not a man that He should lie, nor a son of man, that He should repent; 

Has He said it, and will He not do it?

Or has He spoken, and will He not make it good?

Numbers 23:19 nasb

When we read promises in the Scripture, we don't have to worry about whether or not God will keep His word. He will. If He has spoken, He will make it good.

When He says, "I will never leave you nor forsake you," He means it. (Deut. 31:6)

When He says, "I will return for you," He will do it. (John 14:3)

When He says, "I will remember your sins no more," He does not remember them. (Jer. 31:34)

Almighty God, Lord of Heaven and Earth, is good and faithful. He is a God of His Word. He keeps His promises. That's a great comfort to me when I feel alone and when I'm not sure what to do. If I lack wisdom, I can ask, knowing I will receive because His Word says I will. (James 1:5)

Let's learn from Sam and do what he does. We're only as good as our word, so let's keep it. Because that's what God does. Every single time.
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In case you missed one of the Sam stories, here are the links:

Hunger and the Importance of Having Enough

Education and Reading the Bible

The Importance of I Love You
Just Plain Sam
Abominations, The Bible, and Praying for Our Nation

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#Sam Wiley, #Lessons from Sam, #The Importance of Your Word, #Lines from Leanna

Lessons from Sam: The Importance of I Love You

This is Sam Wiley week. It started when he turned 86 on Sunday. We hung out together most of the day and he talked about life and the lessons learned. 

I didn't actually intend to have an entire week of Sam sessions, but I've gained so much from him over the years that the wisdom he's shared with me is too precious to hoard. 

As many of you will remember, Sam's wife, Jamie, died back in October. They'd been married for six decades. Their daughter died after three months of a heart problem, so it was just the two of them all those years.

It's just Sam and me now, and these are precious, but hard days. Sam has a good many medical problems and he's no longer strong and vigorous like he used to be.

Life has changed for Sam in ways he never imagined. One of those ways, of course, is the loss of his wife. As we sat on the patio Sunday and watched the waves on the lake, Sam talked about regret. 

"The one thing I regret the most is that I didn't tell Jamie I love her enough. We did love each other, in our way, and we had a good life. We didn't have all some people have, but we had enough."

I disagreed. "Jamie knew you loved her, Sam."

"Well it wouldn't have me cost nothing to say it more. I shoulda done that, and I wish now I had. But it's too late. I'm telling you. You better tell the people you love that you do, because your chance will be over before you know it."

Sam's right. I've been thinking about love languages recently. All my characters in my current novel have taken the love language test, and I have, too. My love language is quality time. Sweet words and a big hug are nice, too, but they don't mean much if you don't back it up by spending time with me. 

Judging by almost 27 years with Sam, his love language is either acts of service or quality time, too. Words are not the tool he uses to say I love you, but he's learning. It's too late to say I love you to Jamie, but he's taking advantage of the time he has left to say I love you to those he loves.

There's not a day that passes now that Sam doesn't tell me thank you. There's not a day that passes that he doesn't say I love you, if not in words, then in his actions and his attitudes. He uses words a lot more now than he ever has.

If Sam Wiley, at 86 years old, can learn a new way of loving, we can, too. 

He's right. Life is short. Too short, in some ways. The people we love can be gone in an instant. We need to be intentional about loving while we can. 

We need to show people we love them, but we need to tell those we love that we love them, too. Don't wait until tomorrow. 

Life is short. Love well and don't forget to say it, too.

"For God so loved the world, that He gave his only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life." John 3:16 nasb

"Great love has no one than this, that one lay down his life for his friends." John 15:13 nasb

And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love." 

1 Corinthians 13:13 niv

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#Iloveyou #lovelanguage #SamWiley

Lessons from Sam: On Education and Reading the Bible

Sunday, April 10th, was Sam Wiley's birthday. To celebrate, we spent the afternoon talking about life and lessons learned and I'm sharing some of those lessons this week.

Sam's family, like most families in the 1930's, was poor. They were sharecroppers, which meant they worked hard for every bite of food that went into their mouths. They bought things like sugar, salt, and a little coffee, but they grew or raised almost everything else.

Imagine that for a minute. No grocery store. No vegetable market. Just till and hoe and plant and pick. After the vegetables were picked, they were processed and preserved. Some things were sun-dried and some were canned, but nothing was wasted.

We learned yesterday that Sam's daddy had contracted TB while in the service. He wasn't a well man, but he was a hard-working man, despite his illness. Sam and his brothers helped on the farm. His sisters helped in the house. 

"Wouldn't it have been helpful to have the girls work in the garden?" 

"Oh, no. That was the boys' job. The girls had plenty to do in the house and putting up the food. We was a team. We all had a job and we knowed what it was. So we did it."

"What about school, Sam? You finished third grade, didn't you?"

"Well, I quit going to school at third grade, but you can't really say I ever went."

"Your parents didn't send you to school? Didn't they want you to learn to read and write?"

"My parents wanted me to have food to eat so I could stay alive. Yeah. They wanted to me to have learning, but sometimes other things are more important."

Imagine that for a minute. Sam's parents had to choose between living and learning. They chose life. 

Their choices were a far cry from ours today, but they might have been better off than we are in some ways. The most important things were clear, and they weren't gymnastics or cheerleading or sports. The most important things were faith, and life, and food. They dealt with what mattered and left the rest for someone else.

So, Sam didn't go to school much. He didn't learn to read or write. If you ask him, he'll tell you he can't read. That's not quite true, but he doesn't read well.

We talked about reading a few years ago, and he told me he could read better than some of his friends. He had one friend who could read "men" and "women" on the bathroom signs, but he couldn't read it if they used other words like "Gents" and "Ladies." That friend had ended up in the wrong bathroom more than once. Sam was grateful he could read better than that.

There's one thing he can read, though, and it's a constant source of amazement to me. He can't read the newspaper, but he can read his Bible, and he does. 

He opens the King James Version, with all the Thees and Thous and Whithersoevers, and asks God to help him know what the words say. And He does. Every time.

Sam knows the Bible better than most of us with college educations because he's taken the time to read the most precious book he owns. 

Sam's Bible is the only book he owns, because it's the only one that matters.

There are hundreds of books in my house, and I read them, but there's only one book that matters most. My Bible. We may not realize it, but the Bible is always the one book that matters most, no matter what else we have in our houses. 

An interesting thing happened as Sam worked to read the words in his Bible. He labored over ever word and, as time progressed, those words became a part of him. He spent time with them and, without meaning to, he memorized them. 

His vision isn't so good any more, so he listens to the Bible on tape now. One way or the other, Sam Wiley is keeping up with, and in, the Word of God. After 86 years, the Words of Life are planted deep in him, and you can tell it from the life he lives.

If we don't know what God says, we can't obey Him, so let's reevaluate our own commitment to Bible study today. Are we hungry for His truth, His righteousness? 

If we dig into the Word of God, it will be planted in our hearts in ways that change us and are visible to the world around us, so let's dig deep.

"Thy word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path." Psalm 119:105 KJV

"Thy word have I hid in mine heart that I might not sin against Thee." Psalm 119:11 KJV

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Don't miss the upcoming Bible study on the book of Hosea. We've had a great response so far, and registration is still open. The lessons will not be posted on this blog. There will separate links for them. This is a self-paced study that begins May 1. I will post one week at a time, doing one chapter a week, and you can work through the lessons at your leisure. The goal is to learn to dig deep for ourselves. I'm studying Hosea and writing the way I study as I go, including the questions I ask, the things I look up to clarify my questions, and the way I pull it all together. (including the links I use) I hope we will be able to pull Scripture together in a deeper way so that we understand both the book of Hosea, how it ties in with the rest of the Bible, with history, and with our times today. Everyone is welcome. We will have group work, but you don't have to participate to do the study. Message me or leave a comment to sign up. (We need an idea of numbers to arrange for help with the groups.) 

How to leave a comment: If you are using mobile view (on your phone) go to the bottom of the blog, click on "web version" and scroll to the bottom again. You'll see a place for comments. Post and save your comment or sign up. Thank you.
#literacy #Biblestudy #SamWiley 

The Vigil

This journey of ours started a long week ago. For those of you who are joining for the first time, our current adventure began last Friday. 

When my phone rang, I almost didn't answer it. I was busy and hated to stop for a telemarketer. 

It wasn't a sales call. 

My elderly neighbor Sam had called to say his wife had "slid down in the floor" and he couldn't get her up. I'm glad I answered, but it was a call that changed our lives forever. 

Sam and his wife Jamie have lived in a cottage at the entrance to my farm since 1960, when Sam came to work on the farm I now own. In the early years, he and I spent most of my days off together. He taught me to set a trot line, sharpen a knife, skin a rabbit. We have had a glorious time together. 

After I married and had my son, Ryan joined us in our rural adventure. Sam taught Ryan to make repairs, use a hammer, calm a frightened animal, tighten a cinch, and catch a fish with nothing more than a hook and a piece of bread. 

Jamie did factory work, took care of Sam, and made the best biscuits in the world. Her door was always open and, if you stopped by at mealtime, she fed you, whether you intended to be fed or not. 

She loved Sam and she loved my son. 

On that day that seems so long ago, I found Jamie sitting on the floor, leaned up against the bedroom door. Sam and I lifted her up and into a chair, but it was clear she was in big trouble. I called 911. 

From the ambulance crew to Minnie, the sweet lady who cleans the room, people have been nice to us. They have bathed us in kindness and cushioned this awful journey in gentleness and a sweetness that is both unexpected and difficult to comprehend. 

This morning, I went to the cafeteria to grab a quick breakfast and hurry back to the room. At the checkout, I reached into my wallet for my money, and heard a young woman behind me say, "I've got both of these." I handed my $10 to the cashier and she smiled. "She already got yours." The "both" the young woman had claimed was her breakfast and mine. 

I wept. 

Tears trickled down my face as I stammered words of thanks to a woman I did not know and will never forget. Whoever you are, thank you. 

I learned something momentous in that moment. 

Last night, one of the nurses talked with me. "We've watched how you've loved your neighbors. I've never seen a doctor love someone like this, treat someone like you've treated Miss Jamie and Mr. Sam. It's rare these days for anyone to do this. I want you to know it's changed me. If you need anything, all you have to do is tell us. I promise you, I'm going to pay it forward. I want to do what I've seen you do." 

I smiled and thanked her, but I didn't understand. Until this morning. The lady at breakfast opened my eyes. 

In our society, we've become so consumed with ourselves and our busyness that we've stopped caring for those around us. I've substituted texts for visits and phone calls for presence far too often. 

This week has been hard, but it's been worth it. I hope I do better next time. I've failed so many of my friends over the years that I've spent this week repenting it. I hope I do better in the future. 

Loving our neighbor is spoken of far more than done. Loving our neighbor as ourselves is rare, and loving our neighbor when it costs us dearly is even more rare. I haven't done anything special at all. I've tried to act like Jesus in a difficult situation and done a poor job of it. I could have loved more. I should have loved more. 

I can do better at loving. We all can do better at loving each other, and we must. 

As Sam and I have sat beside the bed of his dying wife, he's talked about their marriage of sixty years. His life is changing and the future is frightening. "What am I going to do?" he asked me. "They same thing we've always done," I told him. "You'll take care of me and I'll take care of you. After all these years, why stop now?" 

Hours later, Sam smiled. "You know, today I feel like I'm gonna make it through." 

Jamie's condition continues to decline. She is not expected to make it. No. That's not right. She is expected to make it, but she won't be staying here. She is preparing for her journey from this world to the next. Her time here is almost over, but her new life is only beginning. 

For now, we wait, standing vigil at the bedside of a woman Sam has loved more than he loves himself. It looks like Jesus at this bedside. When I see love like Sam's, who else could it be?

Love your neighbor as you love yourself. Matt. 22:39

Here's the link to yesterday's post on this topic:  http://leannahollis.blogspot.com/2015/09/the-eternal-destination.html

#loveyourneighbor #payitforward #vigil #disciple