Sleet pours down outside,
like God is emptying His ice cube tray.
Roads are slick
and wet chill pushes us to stay inside.
Comfort, Warmth, Security.
Safe from the dangers of the weather.
Step into the sleet.
Meet the man on the streets.
Face the rain, the snow,
so that you may know.
As you can probably guess from that impromptu poetry, it’s sleeting/snowing outside. It’s icky and nasty, but I ventured out. Not to meet a homeless man, but to share about my experience India with some friends. I figured it was a worthy way to spend my time, particularly since they made meatless spaghetti sauce for me. (shoutout!) It makes me think about how serving people is rarely convenient. And how I want to be the type of person who can drop everything to help out, to pray for someone, to listen, to buy a sandwich for a hungry person, to scrape off a friend’s car, to help someone on the side of the road.
Right now, I’m praying for a snow day so that I can clean my room and sleep a little bit more tomorrow. I implored the Creator of the heavens and earth for a snow day, as if He were a common genie in a bottle. Or maybe I should state it: I asked God to help the administration make the wise choice to keep student drivers off the roads tomorrow.
That’s what I meant. They’d be doing all of us – and the other drivers on the road – a service.
Service. There’s that word again. I wonder, what would my life amount to if I lived in my own bubble all the time? Would I have any significance? I wonder if that’s why God gave me 6 million other people on earth, so that I could be significant. Or maybe so that I could see that other people are significant to Him – and thus that they should be to me.