My Life is Not My Own...

August 13, 2019

 Dear Friend,

 

I was taking a walk with my boys the other day and something remarkable happened. 

 

In my parent's neighborhood, where we were taking our walk, morning and evening strolls are a part of the culture. We were out taking our evening stroll. We'd already seen many people on our way, the boys talking and waving to them as they passed. As we made our way home, my youngest, almost two, noticed an elderly woman across the street and waved hello. I too waved back. She smiled and waved. I began to walk but my son lingered. Both he and the woman stood and continued to stare at one another smiling and waving. She began to then cross the street. She wore a traditional Indian sari and skirt; and as she approached she said in her broken English, "Please, one minute." She pointed to my son and immediately I understood that she wanted to hold him. He ran to her even before I could motion him to. He wrapped his arms around her neck, embracing hard. She smiled and her eyes shown. After a few bounces up and down and a high-five she put him down. She then looked at me and said, "Thank you." She crossed the street and continued on her way. 

 

This sweet small moment was a reminder to me that my life isn't my own. In a system that draws us closer and closer to self-entered living, it is easy to forget that we are each other. Our experiences and characters exist to be a part of a whole, something far greater than ourselves. This connection, when we allow it, crosses all boundaries: race, gender, culture, and even religion; just as Christ did, Lord of all. 

 

"Now he had to go through Samaria. 5 So he came to a town in Samaria called Sychar, near the plot of ground Jacob had given to his son Joseph. 6 Jacob’s well was there, and Jesus, tired as he was from the journey, sat down by the well. It was about noon.

 

7 When a Samaritan woman came to draw water, Jesus said to her, “Will you give me a drink?” 8 (His disciples had gone into the town to buy food.)

9 The Samaritan woman said to him, “You are a Jew and I am a Samaritan woman. How can you ask me for a drink?” (For Jews do not associate with Samaritans.[a])

 

10 Jesus answered her, “If you knew the gift of God and who it is that asks you for a drink, you would have asked him and he would have given you living water.” 

John 4:4-10

 

"He entered Jericho and was passing through. 2 And behold, there was a man named Zacchaeus. He was a chief tax collector and was rich. 3 And he was seeking to see who Jesus was, but on account of the crowd he could not, because he was small in stature. 4 So he ran on ahead and climbed up into a sycamore tree to see him, for he was about to pass that way. 5 And when Jesus came to the place, he looked up and said to him, “Zacchaeus, hurry and come down, for I must stay at your house today.” 6 So he hurried and came down and received him joyfully. 7 And when they saw it, they all grumbled, “He has gone in to be the guest of a man who is a sinner.” 8 And Zacchaeus stood and said to the Lord, “Behold, Lord, the half of my goods I give to the poor. And if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I restore it fourfold.” 9 And Jesus said to him, “Today salvation has come to this house, since he also is a son of Abraham. 10 For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost.”

 Luke 19: 1-10

 

It was an honor to allow this elderly woman to enjoy, if even for a brief moment, her grandson and for my son to experience love from yet another avenue. 

 

I continued to be overwhelmed by how it all works so intricately together. Creation, me , you, Him; created in His image indeed. 

 

This week I'm challenging myself to see beyond myself, for my life is not my own. As Jesus shared himself and lived among us I too want to do the same. 

 

Abundantly With Love,

 

The Anonymous Wife3

 

 

 

 

Please reload

Recent Posts

October 21, 2020

October 20, 2020

Please reload

Archive

Please reload

Tags

I'm busy working on my blog posts. Watch this space!

Please reload

 

Little Rock, AR, USA

©2020 BY LAKISHA M. JOHNSON MINISTRIES.