There is little that puts life into perspective more than death. The past few weeks have been deja vu for me and my close friends as we have experienced the loss of not one, not two, but three friends in as many weeks. The same thing happened about this time last year.
Among the comments I have heard since then that stick in my mind are these:
“I’m learning that it is the small things that matter.”
“Life is fragile, isn’t it?”
My friend and author Lisa Harris recently recommended a book, Kisses from Katie. It is the true story of a prominent young woman drawn to ministry in Africa. Even before she finished high school, she left to visit this far-away land. Before she reached the age of twenty, she had settled there and adopted more children than most of us would think of taking on in a lifetime. Known to her Ugandan neighbors as Auntie Katie, she distills her young wisdom into one sentence: Stop and love the person in front of me. Those simple and profound words, and this story from her book, will forever be engraved on my heart.
I don’t always want to help other people. Generally speaking, I do. But there are certain days when I, like everyone else in the world, simply want to do what I need to do and keep moving. It’s part of being human. But so often, when we stop to be kind when we don’t really want to, that’s when the sacrifice becomes most rewarding.
The night in 2007 was cold and rainy. I was walking out of the supermarket on Main Street in downtown Jinja, on my way home. Then I saw him. Huddled on the street corner, drenched and shivering, was a little boy. At that moment, all I really wanted to think about was getting home, getting dry, and crawling into my warm bed. But a voice inside told me to stop.
I took the little boy inside the supermarket to dry him off a bit and bought him some biscuits and juice. I gave him my sweatshirt, a small wooden cross I carried in my pocket, and some change so he could get a ride home.
As he left, he called out, “What is your name?”
“Katie,” I responded, “Auntie Katie.”
“Me, I am Daniel,” he shouted and disappeared into the wet, chilly night.
About a year later, I walked into the supermarket to buy food for my family and got caught in a big hug. Two small brown arms wrapped around me as a child’s voice excitedly proclaimed, “Auntie Katie!”
I looked down to see Daniel. Beaming.
“Wait,” he urged me.
He hurried to the nearest street vendor and bought me a popsicle with the little pocket change he had. He then dug his little hand in his pocket and pulled out the small wooden cross. Looking at me with a wide grin, he spoke words that pierced my heart: “I have never stopped praying for you every day.”
To this day, I think of that story and stand amazed at the goodness of our God and the enormous things He can accomplish if I am obedient to His command to stop and love the person in front of me. That rainy night, I really just wanted to hop on a piki and go home. But I stopped, because that’s what my heart told me to do. I only gave him a sweatshirt (I’m sure I have eight more). I only gave him some cheap biscuits (I can eat biscuits anytime I want to). I only gave him enough money for his ride home (probably less than the equivalent of fifty cents). But Jesus gave him hope that night. And he remembered. He didn’t just remember my face; he remembered my name. He prayed for me. He prayed for my safety and for the opportunity to see me again. I blessed him just one cold night, and he blessed me every day after that for an entire year.
~Clark, Beth, Katie J. Davis, Kisses from Katie, New York, Howard Books, October 4, 2011, pp 101-102.
Life is fragile.
It's the small things that matter.
Stop and love the person that God puts in front of you.
