Life gets busy, and this little dwelling for my musings is often neglected. (A lot has happened in the past two and a half years, but that is for a different post[s].)
Yet there are moments, like this evening, when the emotions swirling in my brain need a safe place to land. And so . . . here I am.
One of my favorite past times is to watch people. The little girl whose daddy pushes her in the swing at the park. The gentleman who sips his coffee in the corner booth of McDonalds. The baby who follows my gaze intently over her mother's shoulder as I wait in line to check out at the grocery store.
Often, these casual observations are fleeting moments in my busy days, and my calloused heart devotes little, if any, emotion to them. I usually toss them a friendly smile, and sometimes even a casual hello, all in hopes that a little encouragement could brighten their day. I ease my conscience with the simple truth that there were no opportunities for real conversation; therefore, I did not neglect my Christian duty to share the gospel.
But today is different. I recognized that each of these souls is a story unfolding. And my heart asked a hard question, "How do their stories end?" And the answer troubles me, because I don't know.
I don't know if those individuals have hope. I don't know if they have a serene contentment because their future is secure. I don't know if they have heard the only truth that can offer complete satisfaction in the midst of a troubling uncertainty.
And while I may never be more than a casual observer to some of them, I hope this stirring in my heart grows. I pray that God burdens and enables me to share the greatest chapter of hope that He has already written for their lives. Above all, I want to have such a love for others that I diligently search for opportunities to be more than a passerby in the lives of those around me who desperately need Truth and Life breathed into their souls.
God help me be more than a casual observer; help me to be a deliberate storyteller.
