I started a list today. A list of acquaintances whose face and voice I know, and who know mine as well.
The list includes, in bold letters, the names of my husband and family. But John’s there too – he stops regularly by my office. So are Gladys and Shirley and a few others from one of the churches we visit frequently. Also Glenda and Loretta along with other dear friends. Delores and Sheryl, and the rest of the ladies I do Bible study with made the list. So did Kathleen, the postmistress and Judy, my coworker.
I must stop naming names now – the list seems to have no end. Long-distance relatives and friends. Neighbours and service people. My doctor and dentist, and Rosie, my gentle dental hygienist. The list includes all sorts of people. People I love, some who love me. People who accept me as I am, and some who regularly try to fix me, help me, teach or heal me.
Not all those on my list love me, and frankly, God and I are in discussion about my feelings toward some of them. Nevertheless, through Divine arrangement, there they are.
My list includes those who are not close. We know each other from a distance and only occasionally connect. But it also contains people who stick close in times both good and bad. Close enough to embrace. People who, in times of trouble, stay long enough to help pick up the pieces and tidy up the mess. People for whom I do the same thing.
A few names got onto my list because I contribute to their lives in some way, others landed there because somewhere along the way I needed them. A few admire something I have or am, and others have something I admire – a skill, an attitude, an intriguing way of looking at life, a relationship with God that teaches me.
Others are on that list for no other reason than that God plunked them there and they don’t budge, no matter how infrequently we interact. I’m learning to be thankful for that. God knows what he’s doing, after all, even when he sends burrs.
You have a similar list. Everyone does. The names change over our seasons of life, but there’s always a list. But really, they’re not lists at all. As I review my own, I notice that it’s far more.
The long string of names serves as an accounting of my days; an inventory of my seasons, moments, attitudes and time. It reminds me that God didn’t create people to seal them in a vacuum. That, like cells and membranes in our body, as we connect with others, those connections shape and grow us.
My list proves I’m not alone in life’s journey, even when I think I am or wish I were. That every person matters, in small ways and big. And that God can and does use even the tiniest link to remind us of his loving care.
