Tag Archives: respect

Our Pandemic and Personal Decisions

15 Sunday Mar 2020

Posted by in Hearing God's Voice

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There sure are lots of opinions on what not to do and where not to go with the coronavirus pandemic. It seems we have a war of words and wisdom.  I’ve been thinking a lot about our world situation and want to add some thoughts of my own.

I have some friends who say they intend to do just as they’ve been doing; they don’t intend to start living their lives afraid. They are Christians and will trust God to protect them. I am also a Christian and I trust God to protect me every day in many situations. One of the last things I do at night is thank God for the protection He has provided during that day; I begin mornings with a prayer for protection for the new day and whatever may come.

But along with my prayers of petition and thanksgiving, I trust that God has also given me common sense and the ability to hear His guiding me in where I should go and what I should do. I don’t go into any day “just trusting.” I ask for guidance and then I listen to hear what I believe He is saying is right for me. I know I don’t always get it right and sometimes it is deliberate rebellion, I ashamedly admit.  Maybe not consciously, but I think I’ve already got it figured out, so onward I go. But, why pray, if I don’t believe I will receive an answer with intention to follow? I also know that how He advises me may not be the same way He advises another.

Let me say right off I don’t think there is a wrong or right in many things, but rather a sense of how you are being personally led to act. For example, I rarely go out at night and not because I’m afraid, but because there is an inner guidance that it is better for me to be inside my home once the sun has gone to bed and the stars come out. That’s not the same sense everyone has and I certainly respect that. I have a dear friend who thinks nothing of traveling from one end of this large city to the other after dark and alone. She says she isn’t alone, God is always with her. I believe and I trust that for her she is doing the right thing. God is also very much with me; I never feel without God for a single minute. The difference is she’s following what the Holy Spirit is telling her and I’m following what I believe He is telling me. Why is it different? I can’t say. It’s certainly not a matter of faith for me (and some have suggested that – that I should have more faith). Why my friend and I sense we are to do things differently would be a question only the Lord could answer. I assume there might be dangers around me that aren’t around Katherine. Dangers I don’t know about, but the Lord does. I do not live in my house afraid, but I do live cautiously.

So it is with the matter of the coronavirus. I will be more attentive to whether I need to be in a particular place and more watchful with how things are being handled. (Have you ever noticed that people in the grocery deli wear gloves but they touch absolutely everything in those gloves? The meat they slice for you, the scales they weight it on, and even the cash register in some stores?) I will wash my hands more as I’m opening doors that may have just been opened by others who haven’t seen soap and water for a while. I’m a big hugger, but I’ll probably do a little less of that for a while.

I realize, like most things, there will be little agreement on how this is to be handled. None of us knows all the things that lead another in making decisions and it’s sometimes more than just what medical opinion they have been given.

When I was growing up, there was little I feared. In fact, my mother would get quite frustrated and occasionally angry with me for being afraid of nothing – she said. Now I find myself in that “over 70” age group. My immune system isn’t what it used to be, neither is my pain threshold (goodness, did I ever have a very high one of those!) I’ve had some unexpected health issues in this past few year and will live with one for the rest of my life. It has to be treated with careful attention and treatment so I won’t take unnecessary chances.

However we decide to address our reaction and behavior to this pandemic, I do hope we all make educated and prayerful decisions.  I also hope we don’t forget that God gave great wisdom to medical professionals to help us, not confuse or scare us. I keep remembering a young woman who was diagnosed with colon cancer. Surgery was advised. She refused it, saying she had full faith that God would heal her. Her family pleaded with her to have the surgery, but Lori wouldn’t budge. That young wife and mother died, leaving behind a 16 year old daughter. I know she loved the Lord with all her heart and trusted to the end that He would heal her, but perhaps the healing He had in mind was by the hands of a surgeon He had blessed with knowledge and skill. There is, after all, more than one kind of healing testimony. Do I believe we can be healed by the direct intervention of God? Yes, I do. I’ve experienced it personally more than once.

Whatever we decide, let’s not make others feel ours is the only right decision. Let’s not push them to question their faith nor cause them to be unjustly afraid. Let’s not argue our position, whatever that is, and here I speak to myself more than anyone else. I know I’m a strong personality with strong opinions, so I’m resolving right now to monitor more what I say to another and not be so free with advice.  I’ll continue to ask God to help us all get through this very tough time, and above all, to love and be kind to one another as we make the journey.

A Man and His Dog

20 Saturday Jul 2019

Posted by in healthcare stories

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I hope you will enjoy another story about heroes from my hospital days. As you read, keep in mind this happened in a 900-bed hospital. The bigger the hospital, the harder it can be to do the little things for patients. 

It was a volunteer that told me about a patient who came into our hospital suddenly and didn’t have time to make arrangements for his dog’s care. The dog had been without food and water for two days and our patient knew the dog would die if he wasn’t cared for soon. The patient lived within five minutes of the hospital.

I called his physician who was immediately supportive of our doing whatever we could to relieve his patient’s concern. He said he didn’t feel there would be any harm if the patient was unhooked from his IV long enough to see about his dog, provided someone from the hospital could drive him there. 

A call to Security found them willing to help; they would drive the patient to his house. The patient’s care nurse unhooked his IV and readied him for the short trip home. The security officer went to the floor where the nurse released the patient to him for a quick trip home. With the help of the officer, the patient attended to his dog’s food and water. In little more than 30 minutes, the patient was back in his bed, hooked up again to his IV, and sleeping as sound as a baby. 

When I visited him the next day, his eyes glowed like a child’s at Christmas. He just couldn’t believe his doctor and our hospital would do such a kind thing for him. His doctor said it only took his thinking what he would want done for him if he were the patient. As for Security, it was one of the few times they got to be a part of a happy occurrence, and it brought them, for a day at least, to the inner circle of patient care. The nursing staff? Our nurses were the best and always ready to make their patients happy. 

So there are several heroes in this story. The doctor is the first — for without his okay, it certainly could not, and would not, have happened. Our Security Department’s director and his transporting officer were heroes for not being afraid to take the risk. An unseen hero was our director of Risk Management who was notified of what we wanted to do and gave her complete support. It was all about a patient and his dog that day. 

 

Looking Back at a Memorable Patient

15 Monday Jul 2019

Posted by in healthcare stories

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There’s so much bad news today, I thought a little sharing of personal heroes might be in order. During the years I worked for Methodist Healthcare (1983-1998), my primary responsibilities were to patient concerns, patient rights, and medical ethics. I got to know some terrific individuals and wrote about many of them. I believed the sharing of patient perspectives helped us react more like a small community rather than a large hospital. Everyone does better when they understand another’s perspective. The stories were first shared internally and then with the medical community at large through my column, “Patient Perspective,” in the Memphis Healthcare News. I’ve pulled a few stories, in no particular order, to share with you. This one is very dated, but our need to understand and respect one another never changes. This couple taught us a lot about that. It was written in December of 1988. 

There are those particular patients whose stories we file away in our memory book. Then, from time to time, we draw on the lessons they taught through their demonstration of great courage, kindness, or even wit. There is one patient I remember who met all those qualifications.

I first became involved with him due to his extreme fear of contracting AIDS. He and his wife came to our hospital armed with their own can of disinfectant, and his wife cleaned the bathroom and telephone again – just to be sure.

The patient and his wife, both in their late 60’s, enjoyed one of those marriages that was a sheer delight to observe. As we got to know each other, his wife told me they had both had previous marriages that came apart in the early 1940’s. She said her first husband left to get a haircut one day and just never came back. So, for six years, the second husband made her go with him every time he got a haircut! Then she laughed that happy, throaty laugh of hers, and you could imagine the whole scene taking place.

There were a number of hospitalizations and other visits to our hospital. One day, the patient had been in to get blood and I met him and his wife as they were leaving the hospital. They stopped to speak and give me a quick hug, but then said they had to hurry along. “I’ve just been given the blood of an 18 year old, and I want to get my wife right home” said the patient.

During the time of one hospitalization, the patient decided he would leave a little test for the housekeepers: he put one tiny piece of paper in each of the four corners of his bathroom. The housekeeper passed the test, but one of the patient’s daughters said the housekeeper should have left them where they were with one word written on each paper scrap: (1) I’ve (2) cleaned (3) this (4) bathroom.

The most memorable happening of all, though, came in his first hospitalization. This beautiful human being, full of love and wit, called in all of his grandchildren to talk to them. (As I recall, their ages ranged from about 12 to mid-20’s.) He told them he wanted to be serious just for a minute and then he explained his condition and that he knew his long years of smoking were to blame. He said “Granddaddy should be up playing with you now, and not lying in this bed. If I had taken care of my body, that’s what I would be doing. So I want you to promise me, while each one of you still has a healthy body, to respect it and take care of it. Don’t ever be foolish enough to put yourself where I am now.” With that, he dismissed the time for serious conversation, and became, once again, the life of the party.

Yes, there were times when the patient and his wife might have been seen as ‘difficult’ for staff as they struggled to hold on to the months of life he had left. But surely, there’s not a one of us that felt we could ever put a mark against such a courageous couple.

This was a man and woman who helped us laugh when their hearts were breaking; who held close to each other and taught us lessons about love and left us with memories that bless our days of reflection. The patient was one of those individuals who lives on in each and every person he ever touched, and if there were a hall of fame for patients, we would place his picture there.

 

The Problem with Assuming

28 Thursday Jun 2018

Posted by in judging by outward appearance

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Image-2A few Sundays ago, a fellow church member, Rob Stacey, talked to our Sunday school class about judging a person based on his outward appearance. In speaking, he cited this verse of scripture: “Look beneath the surface so you can judge correctly” John 7:24 (NLT).

Rob told us he had been born with cerebral palsy. His gait is slow and he walks with the help of a walker. When out to eat with his wife, the waiter asked his wife what Rob would like to eat. Her response was, “I don’t know. Why don’t you ask him?” Rob’s admonition to us was don’t assume and never direct questions to someone with a disabled person until you have tried talking to the disabled person.

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Courtesy of David Ring’s media page.

David Ring was born with Cerebral Palsy. His mobility is more stagger than walk and at times he is difficult to understand. Through his growing up years, Mr. Ring says he endured humiliating public ridicule. He fought through perceptions of who he was and what he could do and today has an international ministry as an evangelist and motivational speaker. The outward appearance would say he is very limited in what he has to offer and that’s why he begins his messages with “I have Cerebral Palsy–what’s your problem?”

My friend Rob reminded us that we all have purpose as long as we have breath and we need to respect that with one another rather than make broad assumptions without facts to back up the assumptions.  When we find the purpose God has given us, He equips us to use what we have to serve others. David Ring says “God took my greatest liability and made it my greatest asset.” His disability is not a hindrance but a tool in furthering the gospel of Christ.

exceptional department

Just a few of some very special friends who taught me a lot.

I had six incredibly blessed years working with mentally challenged men and women as a church department director. I bore the title of teacher, but it was those mentally challenged individuals who did the teaching. They were so much more than what first impression said. Margie could hardly speak and she didn’t have a normal walk. But by God’s grace and Margie’s patience, I came to understand much of her speech and how much she could comprehend–which was a lot. Dianne appeared testy and sullen, but she was a woman who loved God and was happiest when in worship service. Tim, mentally challenged and blind, loved to sing solos and give testimony to God. Another woman also named Dianne, had Down syndrome and spoke very little. But it wasn’t because she couldn’t carry on a conversation; it was simply a choice she made. She knew every book of the Bible and could readily find scripture.

When I think of those with severe disabilities, the first two people who come to mind are Nick Vujicic (without limbs) and Helen Keller (blind, deaf, mute) and they both became world changers. They are prime examples of how wrong we are to make determinations based solely on what we see or first come to know.

People can seem different for a lot of reasons. They may look different and they may behave different, but until we have looked beneath the surface as said in John 7:24, we cannot possibly know who they are or what they can do.

Learn more about David Ring at http://davidring.org 

Behavior Speaks Louder Than Words

28 Monday Nov 2016

Posted by in communication

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Now it was time to wait. I had come to receive treatment for a newly diagnosed eye condition. I was alone and with nothing to distract, I began watching and listening to the people around me.

My eyes moved around the waiting room and took in the canes, walkers, and wheelchairs; the patients accompanied by family or friends. I thanked God that I didn’t need walking aid and was able to drive myself to the clinic. I wondered about each person there. Was theirs a longstanding situation or were they dealing with a new diagnosis as I was?

One lady sitting in a wheelchair across from me seemed asleep, but then she suddenly began saying to the two ladies with her that she wanted to go home. Did she want to go home because she wasn’t feeling well? Was she dreading what she might hear today? Her companions didn’t seem too concerned and barely acknowledged that she had spoken. They appeared to be working from a list of people, calling each one to leave a message of concern and express their love for them. Yet here was this lady right there with them receiving little of their attention. Isn’t it the way with people; we look for some good act to do when there is an immediate need right in front of us?

The staff moved about through hallways and doorways at a fast clip. Each one was focused on the work that was theirs to do. They were professional and friendly, having no side conversations with one another that didn’t involve patient care. Their demonstration of being highly skilled in patient and family interaction was impressive. They had either been hired well or trained well. Most likely, both had occurred.

I’m a people watcher by nature, but I become even more so when I’m in a healthcare environment. For more than 25 years I worked in healthcare and that has made me overly sensitive to staff that isn’t professional. In fact, I was at this very clinic because the first ophthalmologist I saw had a staff that interacted playfully with one another but very little with their patients. The physician was rushed into each room by staff and it felt somewhat like I was on an assembly line. After three visits, I determined to find a better fit. This was my eyesight we were dealing with and I needed the utmost confidence in every player involved with my care.

Did you know that over 90% of communication is considered non-verbal? What a person “hears” involves body language, tonality, and attitude. When I began teaching communication techniques in 1984, Dr. Herbert Benson, a cardiologist and founder of the Mind/Body Medical Institute at Massachusetts General Hospital, Boston, graded it as over 90% even then. That old adage of “Nobody cares how much you know until they know how much you care” is sound advice.

I left the clinic grateful to have found a physician and staff that care about how they represent themselves to patients.  That lets me and the others I watched in that waiting room relax into their care. We can come with confidence that highly skilled people are taking care of us and that goes a long way in how well we deal with our particular healthcare situations.

What you do speaks so loudly that I cannot hear what you say. –Ralph Waldo Emerson

Sundays of My Childhood

29 Monday Aug 2016

Posted by in Memories

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In the sweltering heat of southern summers, there was somewhat of a Sunday afternoon tradition at my grandparents’ house of putting small children down to nap on a pallet. A pallet was a homemade quilt folded over once or twice, depending on the number of grandchildren needing rest. Nearby, would be an oscillating fan, giving off a cool breeze as it turned your way. And while children napped, grownups would spend the afternoon in conversation until time for supper.

The Sunday noontime meal usually included both fried chicken and country ham. Mama and Papa had chickens and a smoke house where Papa cured hams. The table was heavy with bowls of vegetables from their garden. Desserts came in threes and you didn’t have to choose. Mama brought you a plate with some of each one; maybe two kinds of pie and a slice of cake. Once when Mama proudly brought a plate of desserts to a guest eating with us, he shook his head and said he couldn’t possibly eat all that and to please just give him one of the desserts. I can still see Mama’s face as she looked from him to the dessert plate in puzzlement. Foolish man to turn away the wares of a champion baker!

Before nap time and conversation, the table was cleared and the food carried from the dining room back to the stove. There it would be covered and put in the oven or left on top of the stove with the pot’s lids covering the “vittles,” as my grandfather called them.That wonderful repast would wait there for us to enjoy again for supper. And we didn’t always warm it up; rather, it might be spooned onto plates and eaten at room temperature. There was Sunday night church to attend, you see, so tasks were kept to a minimum. Mama’s cooking had gone on the day before or very early Sunday morning.

The memory of my grandparents’ table groaning with food and a fan cooling children on pallets are treasured memories. If I close my eyes and listen intently, I can almost hear the hum of that fan as it traveled from left to right and feel the cool breezes it provided on a hot Sunday afternoon.

As children of the 40s and 50s, we enjoyed simple pleasures and much security. We felt with our parents and grandparents in charge, no harm could come to us. We were protected from things we did and did not know. We played uncomplicated games of jack rocks and marbles, hop scotch and jump rope. We might search for four-leaf clovers or make necklaces and bracelets by typing clovetogether the long stems of the white clovers. My grandparents had an elephant ear plant that was profuse with huge leaves and long stems. Mama would break one off for each of us and we would pretend the leaves were umbrellas to fend off the sun or rain. Imagination in that day was a part of every game we played.

I think we need these memories as we age and that accounts for why we reminisce so much in our senior years. Rituals like Sunday family dinners and naps on pallets gave us uncomplicated days. Their recall brings smiles and appreciation for what we then took for granted.

Whoever thought things would change like they have? Ours was a world that made sense and gave hope for our futures. Maybe it is sheer foolishness, but somehow I believe that if we could take our children and grandchildren back to the way things were when we grew up, they would actually enjoy and want it. What do you think?

Live so that when your children think of fairness, caring, and integrity, they think of you.

                                                       — H. Jackson Brown, Jr. 

 

Mama’s Bible

23 Saturday Apr 2016

Posted by in faith

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. . . take root downward and bear fruit upward. (Isaiah 37:31 ESV)

My grandmother’s Bible was a treasure beyond any price. I had hoped as her oldest grandchild that I might inherit it, however I never discussed that with my grandmother or my mother and so in the end it didn’t come to be.

What made Mama’s Bible so revered? She poured and prayed over its words daily. Her gentle, but sure hands caressed the pages. She wept and rejoiced, she trusted and she practiced. She did what Isaiah said: took root downward and bore fruit upward.

I’ve never known anyone that Jesus was as real to as He was to Dulcie Spencer. She sang songs to Him throughout the day and talked to Him as if He were right at her elbow. I’ve walked into her home and overheard her talking and thought she had company, only to find out it was no visitor but her best friend and permanent resident: Jesus. Mama relied on Him completely for every matter and that reliance gave her a radiance that cannot be duplicated by anything of this world. Mama had a heavenly glow. THE_SPENCER_FAMILY_001 - Copy

My grandmother had no earthly riches. She lived a simple life, but a life marked with beauty because of how she lived it. Mama’s standard was to do exactly as God’s Word said for her to do: she loved God with all her heart, soul, strength and mind; she loved her neighbors as herself; and she believed God’s word that when we trust Him completely, He will never forsake us. Mama’s family saw and respected that trust. I believe we were all, in fact, hugely affected by her rock-solid trust in God. My earliest memory of Mama is of her kneeling by her bed for prayer at end-of-day, long dark braids falling down her back and over her homemade gown. Mama always prayed aloud and just as I have visual remembrances of Mama, I have auditory ones, too.

wedding pic - CopyWhen I married in 1989, Mama wasn’t physically able to be with us so she sent her Bible to me for the ceremony. I can’t think of better representation of this woman that I loved more than ever I could express.

Though I didn’t get to keep the book she loved above all others, she did give me her faith and for that I am eternally grateful. Mine isn’t as beautiful as hers, but it is as confident. And what she passed on to me, I passed on to my daughter Kristi. I know because I have witnessed it.

I truly cannot imagine my life without this great woman’s influence. I have often said if I could choose to be like anyone in the world, it would be my grandmother. I wish I could say I had lived a life like hers, but I can’t. My journey has been one of much stumbling, failing, and starting over, however no one’s persuasion of faith has had a greater hold on me than that of Dulcie Spencer. I thank her for showing me a Jesus she never doubted and pointing the way to heaven’s door. You are my crown jewel, Mama.Copy of spencer family about 1951

Here are a few lines from a letter Mama wrote to her children not long before she died in 1991 at 91 years of age: The dear Lord has been so good to our family. I can’t thank him enough and that he lives in me all the time.  I’ve prayed to him all my life and He answers my prayers day and night. Please don’t grieve after me when I’m gone for I’ll be safe with our dear Lord and all my loved ones in heaven. 

 

A Job’s Value

01 Monday Feb 2016

Posted by in jobs

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A recent Guideposts story on job perspective really gave me pause. A man who had lost his job and had been unemployed for seven years was offered the job of janitor at his church. While he was grateful, his wife was not. It would require both of them and she felt it wasn’t important and fell beneath their potential. But as she received new vision on the job’s importance, and in some part the hidden roles it played, she reexamined her attitude and her life. She had an attitude shift—a new perspective.

I began thinking of those who clean our church and church school and wondered how they saw their jobs. Our buildings are immaculate: floors shiny clean, walls free of marks, bathrooms fresh and in order. It must take incredible attention and skill to keep them that way. Do our janitors see their work as important? Do they feel appreciated? Have I ever told them they are appreciated?

Courtesy morgueFile DSC05581.JPG

Courtesy morgueFile DSC05581.JPG

At a very large church next door to us, the cleaning duties are staffed by volunteers and headed up by a company executive. Keeping the church clean is a job he asked for, a way he desires to serve, and that service has provided $1.6 million in local and global missions. It’s pretty easy to see the value of their jobs, but it doesn’t have to be this dramatic to make a difference. Any building kept clean says a lot about what happens there, and probably nowhere is such a statement more important than in a church. The basics done with excellence indicate how other things are managed.

There is a quote I’ve always loved: “Every job is a self-portrait of the person who does it. Autograph your work with excellence.” While some jobs may take a while to reveal an individual, the profession of cleaning is a work that paints a self-portrait quickly.

Sometimes you have to reach bottom to understand the importance of basic work. That’s what happened to the man who for seven years had sought work like he had—that of a software developer. He came to a place where having a paying job was more important than what he did and he received the position offered him with gratefulness. He embraced it determined to do his best and six years later is still signing that work with excellence. The executive who cleans our neighboring church is a recovering alcoholic. That dealt with his ego in a powerful way and his way of serving others still goes strong after twenty years. Another self-portrait signed with excellence.

I began to think of other work that wasn’t so glamorous but ranked as valuable to most of us. What about the people who bag our groceries and take care to separate delicate items from heavier ones? Who limit the weight put in a bag? What about someone in a store who walks us to what we are looking for rather than pointing the way? The service people who come to our houses and put on shoe protectors at the door rather than tramping through with whatever they’ve brought with them from outside?

Every job is important and I’m going to be better at letting those with jobs that daily affect my life know I appreciate them. I hope you will join me in the doing the same.

Handling Nighttime Fear

14 Thursday May 2015

Posted by in nighttime fear

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Nighttime fear is a common plague with many. Everything seems worse in the dark. Darkness gives the sense that we are more alone than when the light of day gathers ‘round us. When others are sleeping and there is no one to talk to or distract us, our imagination can run wild. Personally, there is only one practice that delivers me from nighttime fear and that is prayer on my knees. I can lie in bed and pray, but it won’t be the same. There is a different solace altogether when I bow before God. When I am willing to leave the comfort of a warm bed, I am saying to Him I am serious about my need for His help. It is an act of humility, a demonstration that I know we are not equal and I am to be in submission to Him. And here is the good news: I cannot remember a single time when praying on my knees failed to bring peace. Mama and me 001I had a grandmother who taught me to pray on my knees. She never told me I should—just showed me. Praying on her knees beside her bed at night and praying on her knees for me when I was sick are deeply etched memories. She had no confusion about who God was or how to relate to Him. Jesus was her best friend. She talked to Him aloud throughout the day and as far as I could tell, never once doubted that He would take her through anything. Her faith was rock solid and uncomplicated. When her husband, my grandfather, died, she made this simple notation in a book: Jim went to be with Jesus today.  As I write this, I know there are some who can’t get on their knees for one very real reason or another. Not an act of defiance or laziness, but due to physical disability. Toward the end, my grandmother couldn’t do it either. But for all those years it was possible, she made it her practice. If you awake because worries are gnawing away at you, why not give praying on your knees a try? And if you are physically unable to bow before the King of Kings, spend a little time bringing yourself into a mental bowing before you begin to pray. I believe you will see the difference.

Come, let us bow down in worship, let us kneel before the Lord our Maker; for  he is our God and we are the people of His pasture, the flock under his care. —Psalm 95:6-7 (NIV)

[Jesus] withdrew about a stone’s throw beyond them, knelt down and prayed. –Luke 22:41 (NIV)

My Word is LOVE

01 Thursday Jan 2015

Posted by in love

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It’s spreading like a sudden fire in a dry forest. A one word focus for the New Year rather than a list of resolutions most of us never keep. My word of focus came without thinking twice. The word is “love.”

I choose “love” because the ones I have admired most are those who have loved best. They have understood the way of God’s love, that it is unconditional and abundant. They embrace it and let it spill onto others. They embody a joy and ease with life that tells me they know the secret to contented, purposeful living.

People who love well have an aura about them that speaks good will. They seem to move effortlessly through life, content with the simpler things, unhampered by the world’s bounty.  I see them as vessels filled with God’s love, ever ready to spill out onto the lonely, the heartbroken, the guilt-ridden, the insecure, the anxious, the frightened, the grieving, the young and the old. They truly care about all God’s creations and caring seems for them as natural as breathing.

They don’t hide behind busyness or judge anyone as being unworthy. These people have learned the joy of being fixed on God’s love and not the world about them. They don’t love for recognition or reward, but for the simple pleasure of caring.

So in 2015 my word of focus is “love.” I want to love more and better. And the best way I know to do that is to pitch my tent around the Book of Love in new ways. Read scriptures as if for the first time and think about how to implement what I am reading as an action of God’s love. It is one thing to know about God’s love and yet another to live that love. I want to do a lot more of the latter.

And we know and believe the love that God has for us. God is love, and he who abides in love abides in God, and God in him. –1 John 4:16 (NKJV)