My daughters (ages 10 and 9) asked if they could host some girlfriends over for a Galentines Party. God continues to use my children to stretch me into new places of influence as I allow the Gospel to overflow from my relationship with Christ to others. I said “yes,” but hoped we could think of something beyond hearts and kisses to decorate with and talk about.
Recently I had the privilege of sitting down with a group of women at a local church to discuss loving our neighbors by inviting them to study God’s Word.
We introduced ourselves, and I quickly realized among those present were prayer warriors, veteran Bible study leaders and many who had a heart for their neighbors but weren’t sure where to begin.
To the woman who teaches me how to be a good neighbor.
A Tribute to Jane
Its engine straining, our moving van crawled up the steep driveway at 2810 Forrestridge Drive eleven years ago this month. With a toddler and some relatives in tow to help unload the truck, we moved into our new home. Shade trees, a “mommy” desk and lots of built-in storage were on my list of things to thank God for as I noticed how much He cares about the details. I never imagined how He would give me more than I could ever have asked for --and many of those blessings came from the house catty-cornered from me across the street.
At NBS2GO, we regularly encourage one another to be still before the Lord and listen. Why spin our wheels coming up with what we should do rather than join God where He’s already at work? We encourage one another to “just knit the next row”!
I’ve lived in this neighborhood for nearly ten years and will never forget how we got here. At the last minute God opened the door to this house. We had often invited collegians and other groups into our previous home and dreamed of a large gathering space for them. While house-hunting I was pregnant and also had a toddler in tow, and felt so tired. But my husband coaxed, “Just look at one more -- I think this is the one.”
And so it was! One look at the large living room and the abundant built-in storage space and I was sold. We moved in on my thirtieth birthday.
We got settled that winter and then had our second baby, and eighteen months later, our third. I was tired all the time, trying to be a wife and mom and minister to college students on our local campus. Though my life was full, I felt something was missing. I just knew that God had placed us in this house on this street in this neighborhood as his ambassadors. I often sat at my dining table reading my Bible and gazing out the front window. The three houses I could see were inhabited by amazing older Christian women. There was not a young mom or a child as far as I could see in my neighborhood. Most of my neighbors were original home owners who had already raised their children. And here I sat, three kids under the age of four and no energy to go anywhere except the grocery store or to meet students on our local college campus. “God, why did you put me here?” I would cry out. “Did you get the address wrong?” I longed to meet peers and talk about God and even lead Bible studies right where I was.