The evening I returned from Tracy's, I snuck away from unpacking for a Sunday evening retreat to the grocery store. A teenager with bright eyes and a cheerful voice packed my bags. We struck up a conversation. In the four minutes that it took to load my car, my friend "Q" told me about the four-mile walk to work, almost every day of the week. "Will you walk home tonight?" I said, glancing down at his shoes and up at the night sky as I opened my door. "Yes ma'am…sometimes I can't get to my homework because it's so late. But," he said, in an upbeat tone, "I always get my homework done, even if I have to get up early."
I spun around to catch Q's eyes. "Do you want a bike?" Q smiled at me, stammering a bit, and nodded. His wide grin sparked my own as I replied, "I'll be back."
That evening, I posted on my Facebook status: "who's got a bike they don't use?" Fifteen minutes later, I had wheels. The next day, I picked up the bike and giddily drove to the grocery store, hoping Q would be there. That was the best part of my week—'cause I was doing my thing. It wasn't a foster baby or a Bible club. But it was a response to a deep feeling in my heart—the whisper of do something.
Perhaps we walk by opportunities to serve on our way to doing the things God wired us each uniquely to do. And our individual efforts, our things, are a glorious picture of the beauty and diversity of the body working in unity to express "thy kingdom come."
Let's celebrate that diversity together. You tell us: what's your thing?