It's the little things that mean the most...

So often I hear people lament, when talking about someone who had great needs, that they do not know what to do to help, that there is so much needing done it is too hard to do anything at all, anything that would matter.  Yet they do not understand that it is often the little things that matter the most.

Something that I love about Bettina, something I see as pure mercy from my Good Shepherd, is that she will listen to the myriad things with which I struggle and find solutions to little things that make a genuine difference to me.

When she was here, Bettina asked about the upper lock on the back door. It is a first generation dead bolt with a knob.  I told her I could never figure out which way to turn it, never remember, so I didn't bother using it.  But it would be better if I could because that way I could leave the door locked all day, but still get out easier than using the modern deadbolt that uses a key.

Bettina, wondrous woman that she is, studied the lock, opening and closing it several times, thought about what I would need to remember it, and then firmly announced, "Left to lock."

You see, I know righty-tighty/lefty-loosy from using screw drivers and my drill.  The trouble with the lock is that it is backwards.  But I no longer have to remember that.  All I have to do is remember her words, "Left to lock."

Those little helps that Bettina regularly provides to me has made my life better, easier...and it humbles me how she cares for me so lovingly, so freely.  She taught me how to set an alarm so that the front door is locked all night and now I can keep the back door locked all day without needing to fumble with the key!

Right now, there is a lightening storm raging outside.  One little drawback of having all these beautiful beveled glass windows is that they magnify the lightening flickering against the wall.  Magnify the fear I have of storms...ever since living threw those wild tropical storms in Africa.  It does not help that the windows are rattling something fierce, as if bombs are going off around me.  There is no small amount of fear brewing inside me at the moment.

Yet, I just took Amos outside for the last time.  And I twisted the lock to the left.  I did so, because my Good Shepherd is loving me mightily through someone who cares enough to simply try and does not think her help is too small, meaningless.  He loves me even in my weakness.  Even in my fear.   Even so, He provides for me.  Even so.


Lord, I believe.  Help my unbelief!