“I’m here!” I typed out, then apprehensively made my way to the door, always nervous that somehow a mistake was made and a complete stranger was watching me from their window wondering why I was cautiously walking towards their home. The door opened before I reached it and on the other side was a smiling woman, probably in her fifties, with shoulder-length brown hair, and a broad smile. “Come on in!” she said. I looked back at the van with my husband and children in it, before taking one step inside. Her husband brought me the item I was purchasing. I paid them and told them thank you. He apologized profusely for taking over an hour to respond to my message this morning and I told him it was no big deal. I thanked them while turning to leave and started down their porch steps. And then I stopped. “Do you guys go to church anywhere?”
Their faces lit up, “Oh yes! Just down the street!” And she named a church I’ve heard of before and mentioned they’d walked with Jesus for a long time. “I could tell,” I smiled at them. “I could tell you know Jesus.” - I went to an event last night with my five kids in tow. I pushed a stroller so long and sometimes cumbersome, that I felt no different than if I were trying to navigate an actual train. At the front of my train was a squirming and squealing toddler, strapped into his seat so he couldn’t run off into the crowds of people. In the middle was an empty bassinet because at the back of the train, trying to one-handedly push through the crowd, stood me with a baby who was no longer squealing and squirming because he was being held. “Kendra…” I heard first then felt a hand on my back. I turned around and found Miss Pat standing right next to me. I saw her eyes first, sparkling and smiling. Eyes do smile, you know. And then I took the rest of her in - her soft, white hair always cut in the cutest bob and her lips red with lipstick. Her voice is familiar to me. I’ve heard it tell such beautiful stories of God’s redemption in her life. She tickled the toes of my toddler and spent a few moments adoring my newest addition. Her presence brought peace, despite the noise all around me and the challenge of trying to keep two little boys content while keeping an eye on my three bigger, but still little, girls. She gave me a big hug and I could almost feel the peace she carries with her pressing into me, steadying my frazzled state a bit and reminding me to breathe. You can always tell that Miss Pat has been with Jesus. - After a few minutes filled with high-pitched mama voices convincing their toddlers that they’d be back and some baby cries as their mamas left, I found myself with Mallory and Michelle serving the littlest members of our homeschool co-op. Michelle’s grandkids are in our co-op and she’s been coming to help in the busy and noisy nursery. Michelle I’ve known for nearly twenty years and Mallory I’ve only known for a little over a year. Michelle has walked with me and my family, quietly comforting us and supporting us when we walked through the valley of the shadow of death. She was at my sister’s funeral and she was at my wedding and here she was quietly serving by sitting on a toddler-sized chair, rocking a baby who’d grown attached to her, and reading any books brought to her by her grandson or any other tiny person in our room. After knowing Michelle for so long, I know that she doesn’t hold anything tightly in her hands. Nothing belongs to her. She gives of herself, her time, and her possessions generously and without regret. The first time I met her, Mallory’s southern drawl immediately told me that the midwest hasn’t always been her home. When Mallory speaks, her words dance. When she walks, she’s almost walking on her toes. When she picks up babies, she never just picks them up. She swings them into her arms and catches them safely then gives them a snuggle. There’s joy in every movement and every word. I’ve also learned there’s wisdom in everything she says. I’ve often heard Mallory say “image bearers” instead of “people”. She will not have a conversation without declaring how good God has been to her. And yet, in the quiet of the moment at a playground, she shares, without complaint, that she’s in constant pain because of an autoimmune disease. Michelle, Mallory, and I adventured outside with these littlest of children and I spent the next hour chasing two toddlers - trying to keep mine from the giant school bus in the parking lot and another from breaking free to find his mama. I watched Mallory picking up toddlers, sitting on the hard and rough blacktop of the parking lot, racing to pick up a ball that’s rolled off, and I wondered how much pain she’s in as she moves her body in these seemingly menial acts of worship. But in the small conversations between singing The Hokey Pokey and stacking blocks, in the midst of talking about favorite backyard toys and travel plans, praise for the Lord is never far from her lips. You can tell that Jesus is her friend. By the time we made it back to the room, I was exhausted, and so were my two boys. Michelle watched as I did my best to soothe and soften the cries of both of my sons. Perspiration was on my brow and I bit my lip, trying to hold back the frustration creeping into my chest. “You’re doing a really good job, Kendra. I see you. I know this season is hard. But you’re doing a really good job.” I paused for a moment and looked at Michelle. Her eyes were all understanding, patience, gentleness, and grace. She saw me - frayed and drained. Michelle’s been in the throes of motherhood, she’s been weary and spent. She was a young mother to four busy children once. She’s shared again and again how Jesus carried her through those hardest days. I didn’t even know anyone saw me in those moments, but Michelle did. And in a moment, without even saying His name, she reminded me that Jesus sees me, too. Michelle points to Jesus with every action and every word because She’s been with Jesus. - I read today: “He is here with us, drawing us near even on the days when there seems to be nothing flashy about Him, even in the spaces that feel routine or humdrum. He’s in the ritual, and He’s in the ordinary.” It is in the early rising and sitting with God, the study of His Word, the prayers whispered throughout my day, the consistency day in and day out that He changes me, that He shapes me. Because… I want people to leave my presence with a steady knowing that I’ve been with Jesus, too. Even if someone doesn’t know Jesus, I want them to know Jesus because of me. It’s the gentleness mixed with the joy that is telling. With each of these women I wrote about, and with every other person I’ve ever met who has clearly been with Jesus - when I stop to consider every interaction I’ve ever had with them, there is always both gentleness and joy. Because personalities are different, the way they’re displayed isn’t the same, but those two constants are always present. Sometimes I think gentleness is a personality trait that some people are born with and others aren’t, and perhaps some are more inclined to be gentle than others, but really it’s a gift that comes after years of walking with Jesus. Gentleness is practiced, it is forged through fire, it is learned, it is strengthened. Gentleness comes with awareness then repentance and much prayer. My husband says that gentleness is a way to measure the quality of a man, and I believe gentleness is how we pierce the hardest of hearts to get to the brokenness inside, and then that same gentleness is how we actually tend to that brokenness. And the joy. The joy that is packaged so differently for everyone, yet when unwrapped, the same beam of light is there at the center. I’ve seen joy displayed in the loudest laughs, in the quiet twinkle of a pair of eyes, in the tears that trickle down a wrinkling face, in the quiet humming of hymns. Joy that has been ever-present even when happiness is nowhere to be found. Joy that is chosen, not felt. So this morning, I hear my alarm sound, I slowly turn over and rouse my husband, “It’s time…” and we crawl out of bed so we don’t disturb the baby that’s made his way there. We tiptoe to the kitchen, and care for the dogs excitedly circling our feet. My husband brews our morning coffee, I turn on music and gather my Bible and we sit down at the table to read and to pray and to write. We sit down to be drawn near even in the days that are routine and maybe even humdrum. Because it is here in these early morning wakings, and the moments in between, that we will be refined, that we’ll be reminded of the gentleness that will carry us today so that the practice of gentleness becomes an actual part of who we are. It is here that the joy is etched into our core (because “He’s where the joy is”, afterall), so that it, too, becomes an unshakeable part of our very being. And one day, maybe just maybe, people will look at me and say, “I can tell, she’s been with Jesus.” And I’ll smile and imagine Jesus smiling right back at me because we know it is true. I’ve been with Jesus.
1 Comment
Mama
10/11/2024 12:36:35 pm
Oh sweet eldest daughter…It felt as though I was present and witnessing first hand these journeys your words portrayed, journeys of lives well lived for Jesus, with Jesus. You’ve guided my heart right back to the place I always long to be, with my Savior. I love dearly how the years pass by and our grown children become as much a teacher as they were once learners (though even as all three of our kiddos were little, I learned much from them/you). You have blessed me and I am thankful. I can tell…you’ve been with Jesus. I love you.
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Hi, Friend.I'm Kendra LeeAnne and I'm so thankful you're here. I hope Jesus meets you somewhere in the midst of my sprawling words and pondering heart. If you're looking for previous Bible studies I've written, click here to find them.
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