I am reminded and I am convicted. What I’m doing this summer is just as valuable as the summer of someone’s else fabulous summer doing fabulous things. If I live this summer in love, my service remains because of that love. Dear readers, whether you are working in an orphanage or serving pink lemonade live your life through Christ’s love.
It’s June already. I can’t believe that. A few weeks ago I just wrote about making the trek back home to Indiana. The summer is here. Summer days filled with work: rushing glasses of lemonade to customers and taking pizza orders.
“We only have pink lemonade. Is that alright ma’am?”
The elderly woman turns to me. The wrinkles etch a life into her face. Her blue eyes are fierce with the kindness and the sadness she has seen, and yet those eyes still grin at me.
“Hon, I thought that was the only kind that existed.”
And we share the sincerest of smiles.
This is life for me right now: waitressing and taking care of stuff at home. It’s nothing glamorous. My mom’s having knee surgery soon, and that means I’m going to be the one watering her beloved (and high maintenance) plants, trying to figure out how to avoid burning dinner, and grappling with the ratio of vinegar to hot water in order to mop the floor correctly. I’m not on the mission field converting people to Jesus. I’m elbows deep in dish suds, washing dishes, and taking pizza orders. Could I be doing something better with my summer? Maybe I should’ve gone and volunteered at an orphanage to help AID’s babies. Maybe I should be sharing Christ in South America. Maybe then I could be making a difference.
But a Whisper,
Last week I had some time off, and a friend and I decided to take a walk through a cemetery tucked into a nook of our town. That might sound like a strange thing to do, but we think it’s healthy every once in awhile. Let me explain. I got some perspective as we strolled through that place. The silence, the Memorial Day flags, the last inscriptions defining lives all stared at me from the well-mowed grass. This will be us someday, this will be you, Kassie. Every roaring dictator and every spunky grandmother shares this fate. Death doesn’t care who you are. It still comes. How was this comforting? It was comforting because of the perspective. It defined what is important. No one is going to remember your trophies, Kas, even your service. No one is going to remember your high scores. In fact, all those able to remember to remember you will fade too. That doesn’t mean we don’t serve. Jesus knelt down and washed his disciples feet, but I am reminded that someday all our striving will be forgotten, as my thoughts wander back to the words of Ecclesiastes where it is written that we will all fade.
And then I was reminded.
“And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.”-Corinthians 13:13
Love will remain.
Dear readers, this summer wherever have been placed be faithful, work hard, and do everything through Christ’s love, the one thing that will not and cannot fade.