After a few days of a winter escape and a seven-hour drive, I pulled back into town. Fresh snow lay everywhere. Not just a skiff, but at least a six-inch covering. My heart dropped. I live n a corner house with a double driveway. That meant shoveling. Lots of shoveling. All the way down the last block I convinced myself it wouldn’t be as bad as it looked. That starting was the hardest part of any job. As I turned onto my block, my jaw dropped. Someone had not only blown the snow off the outer sidewalk, but the driveway and back approach as well. Gratefulness washed through me.
A week later, I still don’t know who the good neighbor was, but I am blessed every time I look out my windows or drive on the driveway.
Our writing life should be much the same as my good Samaritan neighbor’s. He saw a need and met that need. Me especially, am too old to shovel out the neighborhood but there are tons of other needs. Perhaps it’s an encouraging little blurb for a church bulletin or an opinion piece in a local newspaper, or−a biggie−take time to write a review on a book we enjoyed, are small things but could make someone’s day.
When God impresses something on our spirit to write, we need to take note and obey. Perhaps it seems foolish, or simply doesn’t make sense, but that’s not our concern. God knows who needs to read what He’s impressed us to write. He chose us to be that messenger, just as he knew this little old grammy would have a difficult time shoveling my seemingly never-ending walkways and sent someone to do it for me.