*People of every race and economic level walk by my house daily. Some walk to catch the bus, some walk to be "green"; some to shop and some for exercise; some because they have nothing else to do and some because they are, as my mother would say, "up to no good."
*My children are not growing up isolated from the poor. Although sometimes we feel somewhat "disadvantaged" around those we know, rubbing shoulders with true poverty keeps this in perspective. We are warm, we are loved, we are fed. The rest isn't all that important.
*Seeing those who daily rely on the bus for transportation, and moms who must walk with their little children to the grocery, causes me to feel blessed to own a 14 year old van.
*The dozens of police and ambulance sirens I hear each day give me the opportunity to pray for those in distress. I remember that there is no certainty in life and people everywhere are scared and suffering.
*Friends and relatives drop by our house often. Our clutter is not hidden, and it keeps us humble. We are connected to our community because our location allows us to be in the middle of people's lives.
*You never know who will show up in our driveway or be knocking at our door. A woman trying to sell her coffee pot so she can pay a bill, a mom with a broken down car, a man looking for lawn care work. We have the unique opportunity ( providing our ferocious dogs are visible and hubby is at home!) to hand hot children cups of juice, share our jug of milk, and provide information about community relief ministries to those who are in need. I recently heard some one say that it is fashionable to talk about the poor,but sadly, not fashionable to talk to them. We (using prudence of course) get to talk to them.
*Our family is visible. One day when our car was smoking, the mechanic called us because he noticed our situation. A man asked if we ran a nursery school because he frequently saw a crowd of children playing in the yard. Older neighbors tell me memories of this house we call home and appreciate a young family giving life to an old house. Our family can be a city on a hill, a little place of love in a cold world. There is a mom at home stirring the soup, a dad working hard day in and day out, and people see it all...fish bowl living at its best. And, on those weeks when we miss trash day and everyone knows it because our trash can sits there overflowing, we glory in the fact that the Lord keeps us humble. Perfect we are not, and what a blessing to know it!
