For me, as I scroll through social media today, on this #GivingTuesday its as if every 501 out there is screaming, "Me, me, pick me!"
It was the first day of November. The colorful leaves welcomed me as I set out for a day of work. Driving, I prayed, “God, I want more. Give me life. Give me a glimpse of your kingdom here on earth.”
Easy to pray, harder to believe.
At lunchtime I drove into Homewood, a small, charming suburb of Birmingham, where I immediately felt, you guessed it, at home. The community welcomes you with open arms and seems to say, “Come on in … everybody is welcome here.” In fact there is one day a year set aside called, “We Love Homewood Day” because everyone who lives there loves it so much.
There is a place just around the bend that your heart has been searching for day and night. Nestled deep within the trees, it calls to you from the end of the road. It is a place where you long to be. A place where your soul will sing and your heart will be free. A place where you will not only find shelter but where you yourself have something to offer. A place where you feel full and satisfied as you cry out in sheer thankfulness, “This is what I was made for!”
Everyone loves to come home to find an unexpected package by their door. When you see the package a quick thought runs through your head. A thought of excitement and anticipation swirls. Who is it from? What could it be? You pick it up, feel the weight, shake it and try to see the return address. Who cares enough about me to send me a package?
"There was a young gentleman in front of me in line at the grocery store today. He was probably in his twenties. Soft spoken, gentle. He was using his WIC vouchers to pay for his food. He had a number of items and for some reason, the clerk had to rescan everything. In the end, he had an extra 10.00 to spend. She suggested that he pick up some bananas because they were close enough to the register and everybody eats bananas."