I’d like to awaken my blog a bit and found this draft all written and ready. Back from 2014. I don’t remember the conference but thought I’d share.
Make sure you read what my friend had posted…. before we had lived through these last 13 months. Years before. In the olden days when life seemed hard but oh… what we didn’t know. So let us for a moment, walk in someone else’s shoes, take up someone’s cross and carry it for them awhile.
I heard some ladies speaking at a conference…..
~ one came from a life of prostitution to a relationship with Christ and it took years for her to overcome her fear of walking into a church because of being judged by the people inside because of her former life. Everyone felt bad for her.
~ and another born to a mom that didn’t want to care for her or name her and ended up being abused in the home she was taken into. But she’s come so far and now her salary comes from sharing about her struggles and how she helps others that are struggling as she did in the past. Dyed hair. Fancy clothes. Nice jewelry. Accepts donations.
~ and that same one, who tells her story over and over for year after year, said, “And your girlfriend that keeps talking about the same problem over and over again…. Don’t you just want to tell her to shut-up and get over it? Or make up a new problem for this year?” And the whole room erupted into riotous laughter. But one.
Born this way. Diseases that will follow her to the grave. Chronic. Daily changes and differences in how she must live vs the norm of society.
My friend, Angi, said it well the other day,
Therefore, brothers and sisters, let us put away referee calls and thrown flags as we see it from the sidelines of someone else’s game. Let us instead be willing to, for a moment however brief, take up the others’ cross, and carry it for them awhile. Walk a mile in another’s shoes, or be willing to remain humble, lest for the grace of God, one of us should stumble on the same rock.
Lest for the grace of God, one of us should stumble on the same rock…..
and sew on... 