True Confessions: Ice, Ice, Baby

I'm not talking about the diamond kind. I'm really talking about the frozen water. It's my favorite. I'm totally obsessed with it and have been for years. And I know better. It's horrible for your teeth. Don't even talk to me about vitamin deficiencies or iron deficiencies... I LOVE ICE.

I'm convinced it's somewhat genetic - several women on my mom's side crave crunchy things. That's totally me. At least ice doesn't have calories - right?! But it's annoying and I totally know it! I have to make myself not do it when I'm with people, but I forget...lots of times...because it's a habit and I can't help it. Oh and those restaurants who are all classy and "we don't do ice in our awesome water?" Not cool.

I also love temperature extremes. One of my brother-in-laws was horrified to learn that I ordered fancy coffee drinks extra hot. I don't anymore because I had one too many that had scalded milk issues - his point precisely.  But I digress..

Ugh! Guys, this is a real thing. My husband even gives me a coupon for store-bought ice in my stocking - he totally know this makes my year! It's unnatural and a little weird and a lot awful. I've tried to break the habit, but the cold and crunch is totally my thing. I can't even explain how happy a glass of ice water makes me. And I am somewhat of an ice connoisseur if I do say so myself. All ice is NOT created equal.

Anyway, to sum up: I'm sorry if I crunch ice near you (except you, family...you're stuck with me), it takes every bit of self control for me to concentrate on not crunching it - so, it was an accident. I'm only a little sorry, though because ice and cold is awesome.

Did I mention my husband orders light ice in everything and does not like temperature extremes? We're compatible like that.

The Sleeping Bag

He was there. Dirty, disheveled, dejected. Surrounded by what appeared to be all of his earthly
possessions, he sat on the median in front of the shopping center.

She parked and walked toward him with a large red object. A red sleeping bag, I soon realized. It was a brisk fall morning in October, one of the first marking the coming cool weather. I sat at the red light watching the scene before me - intrigued.

The middle aged woman in sweats and a ponytail crossed to the median and knelt in front of the man with a gentle and compassionate smile. She gave him the sleeping bag and spoke to him, looking him squarely in the eye. He received the sleeping bag, shuffled his belongings and turned back to her. To my surprise, I watched him wipe his eyes - tears evident even from a distance.

She continued to kneel at his level, kindly speaking to him, and finally joining him in tears. Tears filled my own eyes as I witnessed this humble moment. His pain so evident, her compassion so apparent.

The light changed and I reluctantly continued on my way as tears continued to roll down my cheeks. In that moment I realized, my life had been changed. It was, in fact, one of the most beautiful things I have witnessed.

This simple act profoundly impacted my thinking on mercy ministry and on seeing people. She could have rolled down her window and passed the sleeping bag out to him, she could have easily driven by without doing anything, she could  have walked over and handed it to him and walked away, but that's not what she did. She KNELT at his level, acknowledged him as a person, looked him in the eye, spoke words of kindness, listened to him, wept with him, and met a basic need he clearly had.

It was obvious she did not do this for recognition or glory. She saw him. She saw a need. I'm certain it was not convenient or even comfortable and yet she met it anyway.

The compassion that poured from her face and through her actions spoke to my heart. I haven't stopped thinking about it. The hands and feet of Jesus, the heart of the Gospel, a part of the mission of the church were all wrapped into that moment for me.

I wept. I pondered. I shared. I made a plan to be more prepared to serve people in need in my city.

Compassion. The Gospel. Mercy. Loving People.