I keep a small bottle of maple syrup in my purse.
well confession IS good for the soul.
It came from probably the BEST date known to man at a Cracker Barrel a few days ago.
We talked, shared ham and pancakes and one bottle of warm maple syrup.
I was content until I saw the man across the way. He had a lot more than one lone bottle.
So I asked. You have not because you ask not, right?
And I was given another bottle, that I instinctively slipped into the purse.
It makes me happy just by being there.
Makes me feel prepared, like a swiss army knife, for any situation.
Stranded somewhere? Bam! Out comes the syrup to ration until help comes.
Help still not coming? Bam! write a note (On a very very very small piece of paper) and send it down stream.
Ok so its not as practical as a swiss army knife, I will give you that, but it still makes me feel so prepared. So happy.
Maybe it makes me feel so happy because I associate it with hot coffee and melt in your mouth pancakes.
Yeah, that just may be it.
And last night I stayed up waaaaay late to catch up on news.
For you worriers like myself, this is probably not the time to catch up on news.
late at night....when everyone is sleeping. Just throwin a help out there.
And it was bombings and babies being aborted with their tiny feet left in jars, and women mutilated and paying for it, and young girls beautiful, snuffing out their life so soon because of deep pain.
And if I am not careful I can find security and comfort in the fact that I have locked all the doors and tucked all the children in.
That I am far away from Boston, waited for marriage to have children, and walked the straight and narrow in high school. That if the rapture would happen this very moment all of my family would gather to meet Christ and rejoice for all eternity.
If I am not careful I will hide and pad my nest and shut out the world.
I will refuse to care about my neighbor 100 yards away thinking he is safe from all harm as well.
And late at night the faces of the children I will never meet from missionary slides comes to mind. And the lady at the grocery store I have come to seek out each trip. And the family member that hasn't really considered what an eternity without Christ really means for him.
But what if? What if it was my son who died in the explosion in Boston?
Could I have the heart of Christ and forgive these young men? Could I show grace that only comes from God?
Do I read the news and turn up my nose or say, "Forgive them Lord, for they do not know what they are doing."
And the Lord reminds me of my little bottle of syrup.
The one only I know about.
Well, now you do too.
And last night in my warm and comfy bed, while beginning a new knitted sock, the Lord decided to remind me of my syrup.
Will you enjoy your own comfort, family, life, ETERNAL life, and let the world just get their just desserts?
Will you shun, say, "they made their bed, let them lie in it?" and turn off the computer and close your eyes and refuse to care?
Will you let your friend, a stranger, a neighbor, a relative die and miss heaven because you had it and kept it to yourself?
Because you are blessed you can hoard it and only care about your own and their safety?
What if someone lived next door with the gospel and hid it under a basket and you went to bed another night not knowing, doing the best you could, and the light was only a few yards away?
How smitten my heart was.
It isn't just news.
It isn't just a faraway state.
It isn't just some lady in some clinic who lost the ability to ever have another child again.
It is a lost and helpless world.
And there is syrup for us all.
I have breath in my lungs today to spread the good news.
It is the reason we are alive.
It is our sole responsibility.
Lord, forgive my apathy.