Monday, December 12, 2011

Dear God,

Today I remembered a beautiful moment that happened on friday evening. My grandchildren, ages 4 to 11, and I had traveled to the Lucille Raines Residence in Indianapolis. A United Methodist home for recovering addicts and the visually impaired, we had taken cookies, gently used clothing, a quart jar full of money, and our singing voices to interact with the residents there.

As we sang our Christmas songs in the car on the way to the inner city, I stopped us for a moment to talk a little about the ministry and the people who call Lucille Raines Residence home. "I'm not going there!" One said. "Me neither." Shouted another. I told them what the addicts had lost by making poor choices to take drugs but how they were trying to clean up their lives. Although they were still a little fearful they were open to going inside.

As we entered the doorway each of us carrying something, we were greeted by the gentleman at the desk, a recovering addict himself. We handed him the cookies and we introduced ourselves and talked a few minutes as he engaged the kids. Then we began singing Christmas carols in the lobby. Although usually suffering from stage fright, 11-year-old Gabrielle began to sing a solo, "Do you hear what I hear?" Two little voices started singing the echo part. Although the words weren't just right, the angelic voices blessed the residents sitting nearby.

As we bid our new friends goodbye, little Rylan asked when we could go back to sing for them again. I realized then how you truly make all things new.

Open our hearts
to others,
dear God;
teach us
the way
of love.
Remind us
how much
you love us
so that
we will
go out
to love others.
Thank you
for prized moments
of learning,
growing, and loving.

Forever yours, Andrea