Sometimes I like to visit other churches.
This is especially the case when I travel.
There is something amazing about going to another part of the country and joining together to worship with people who have like minded beliefs. A lesson is always waiting to be learned.
Such was the case last fall.
It was a small town in upstate New York. I walked into the building and immediately wished I lived there. What is it about small towns?
The interfaith Bible study on Tuesday nights.
The potluck on Friday.
And the people. Oh, the people.
Their hearts were as good as gold, warm like the fall hanging softly on the branches of the New England trees outside the walls of that church building.
The kind of warmth you don’t quickly forget.
At the end of the service a woman stood to pray. Her name was Margie.
She stood there softly, in a beautiful pink cardigan, white hair piled up graceful on her head.
Her voice was gentle, and she spoke as if God was right there in the room with us.
I won’t soon forget her words,
“If there is anyone in this group who has a special need please help them.
Whether they ask for it or not.
Just because they are special to us.”
So simple. So sincere.
For just a moment I knew I was special. To someone. In a small town in upstate New York.
A gentle woman who had pled to God in my behalf.
And right then and there I made a commitment.
I must learn to be more generous in my prayers.