faith unfaded

Between grief and health ordeals, major life upheavals and painful estrangements, we’ve all experienced heartbreaking trials that not only test our faith, but weaken our strength, both mentally and physically.

What’s more is we’ve all had loved ones go through these struggles as well.

Sometimes it’s easier to help your friends and family, being a strong prayer warrior when they’ve run out of strength to lift their hands.

Sometimes it’s a thousand times harder. You feel helpless. You may wish you could take their place. You don’t know what to say. You don’t know what to do. Prayer seems wildly inadequate at times, though it is the greatest gift you can give.

But you still want to do more.

And you can. I’ve found that everyone’s needs are different, but we all have something we can give. God has placed gifts and talents in us not for our glory, but His.

I’ve been able to use my position as a writer to share tales of fundraisers for local children facing challenges. My oft-annoying bossiness is great for organizing cake auctions and benefits for friends going through expensive health treatments. I also spent much of the Covid quarantine snipping funny jokes and uplifting poems from magazines and mailing a card a day to a good friend back home battling cancer.

We all have things we can do to help others. Pick up groceries. Offer to chauffeur children to events. Cook a meal. Pick up dirty laundry and return it clean and folded.

Once, a Facebook friend was looking for someone to snap photos of her and her dogs after a season of loss. I’m no photographer, but I did have the time. It was two hours for me, but a lifeline of healing and hope for her.

Yesterday was perhaps one of the easiest gifts I could’ve ever given: the gift of ordinary moments.

My friend is dealing with some frightening health issues. I’ve prayed. I’ve called for daily updates. I’ve offered to run errands. I’ve listened.

But yesterday—after I’d gotten the latest update—I asked her if she wanted to hear some boy drama. Of course, she said. Sure, it was trivial nonsense compared to what she is facing, but for twenty minutes we were 17 again, gossiping like the dramatic teens we used to be. Adulting—and all its adversity—took a backseat for just a few moments.

And sometimes, that’s the best gift you can give.