Okay, so those of you that know me, know that I've always been a Martha. If there's work to be done, I am in the kitchen getting the meal ready, in the yard preparing for the party, in the office, getting the paperwork done. I CANNOT, I repeat, CANNOT sit idly by while someone else toils without feeling compelled to share the burden. It's not that I'm some kind of martyr or anything. It's just that I really really really try to live by the ideal of the Golden Rule. If that was me preparing whatever for whomever, I'd love, honor, and appreciate a spare hand.
Maybe it's because I was the big sister when my dear mother was wasting away from the C-word and I felt compelled to pick up the slack and make sure my little sis was taken care of. Maybe it's because since her death, I was always at the mercy of family and friends for my means. Maybe it's because I was a very liberated and independent single mother and most people just assumed I had it together and rarely offered a hand. Whatever the reason, just know that I'd no sooner lounge around and be served than I'd want to amputate my leg for no reason.
But it's not just out of some sense of what I think is right. I genuinely enjoy service. I think it must be tattooed to my forehead because every where I go, I find myself invited into opportunities to serve. And the funny thing is, even if I joke about it, I would actually do it and feel nothing was out of sorts about it.
This leads me to my fortune this weekend. I have been attending services at PAP Fellowship for several weeks now. For some reason yet to be revealed, I could not sit still in my row in church. I knew service was about to start, but the chapel was still fairly empty and I thought perhaps I'd pop out and see if anyone was hanging out that I might have a minute or two to meet up with and chat. As I passed the pastor (haha, I totally didn't plan that, but it sounds pretty funny! Go ahead, read it again, passed the pastor,) he invited me to be a part of the distribution team to hand out the sacraments. Hehehe, little did he know, (or maybe He told him) how often that happened at my home church in The States! I must say, it gave me great pleasure to be able to get up and serve the congregation.
Afterwards, since we had gone to early service, I go the opportunity to go home early with our lovely hostess, Beth, and help her prepare the afternoon meal for her multitudes and masses. Funny how my idea of relaxing on my day off was to get up at the crack of dawn to get to church early, serve the communion, head over to a friends house and cook and prepare food for a large crowd, but I must say, it was a most excellent way to spend my day.
I was home by 4 in the evening, got to spend some quality time with my kids and still had time to do a little reading and some personal time to boot.
I must say, if this had been my experience the first 6 or 8 months, I might be more inclined to keep at this awhile longer. As it is, I think I am going to need a long break if I am going to be able to find my way back here. I know that God is not done with me yet. And I know that I am not done with these kids quite yet. So now I need to spend some serious time in quiet contemplation to discover what my next move is after this.
All for now...
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