Every Wednesday, my house hosts a dinner for friends in the community. As of late, it’s been getting sort of clique-y. Everyone who comes has been coming basically since the beginning, and by the end of the night, they get really loud and boisterous. Which is fine, until you remember we do this for ministry purposes, and any outsiders who might join our group are intimidated by the crazy group that assembles in our living room. (/end rant)
That being said, I am really happy to say that Nate, the guy we met at the pier on Monday, came to Family Dinner last night! We filled him up with spaghetti (not my recipe, my friend Mary’s) and salad from our garden and strawberry/rhubarb pie. He talked trucks with Cody and at the end of the night, we prayed that his blood pressure would go down so he could stay and work. If he doesn’t, he’s going back to Ohio to be with his mom. Which, when I think about it, isn’t such a bad idea, since he is currently living on the beach. What’s a little snow when you’re homeless, right? But he wants to stay here, so we prayed that God would heal him. We sent him on his way with the leftover spaghetti (there was just enough for one serving, wouldn’t you know?) and promises to call later this week and see how his blood pressure is doing.
And me? I feel as if I’m really living, for the first time in a long time. I’m doing something so practical, anyone could do it, but something so deeply spiritual I can’t describe it. All those years of talking about being Jesus’ hands and feet…only now am I actually living it out.