The Hug that Unlocked My Heart by Steph Beth Nickel

 

A few months ago, still in the thick of COVID restrictions, we helped dear friends move. They have regularly helped us. So, we volunteered without hesitation.

Sandra has had the best parts of 100 surgeries on her leg and several hospital stays. Because of the extreme pain she regularly experiences, we don't get together as often as either of us would like. Even so, I consider her one of my dearest friends.

Let me take you back to our first encounter on the phone. Her family had just begun attending our church. Because she was at a physical low point, she had not yet joined them. I, therefore, didn't know if her hubby was a single dad or if she was a believer. I called to see if her family would be attending the potluck at the church and to ask what they'd be bringing. I didn't feel I was being abrupt, but it came across that way.

Years later, long after we'd become great friends, she admitted that, as a result of our first telephone conversation, she thought I didn't like her. Never underestimate the impact of your interactions with others, especially those first conversations.

I laugh and cringe when I think back on this revelation. I'm so incredibly thankful for God's mercy and grace and the precious friendship that has developed over the last almost 30 years.

Until the pandemic hit, four couples would regularly get together at a restaurant during the Christmas season to enjoy one another's company. I deemed our group the Crazy Eights. Trust me. The staff and other patrons were glad when we had a table off in a quiet corner because it wouldn't be quiet for long. Let's just say, we enjoyed one another's company—a. lot.

I consider these get-togethers among my happiest memories. Even though the restrictions have eased some, for various reasons, I'm not sure we'll all get together anytime soon. 

Another memory stands out in my mind. I spent an hour or so visiting with Sandra when she was in the hospital many years ago. As I was leaving, she matter-of-factly stated, "I love you." I was blown away. Although I'd heard those words countless times over the years, never before had a friend said them so unironically, so naturally, so surprisingly.

This is the kind of friend Sandra has been over the years, despite the fact that she originally thought that I didn't like her. So, you can see why it was a no-brainer to help this precious family relocate—thankfully, not too far away.

Well, as I was standing in her new kitchen, Sandra gave me a hug. Not a shoulder squeeze. A full-fledged hug. 

And that's when it happened ...

The door to a room in my heart that I didn't even know was shut, locked, and barred closed swung WIDE OPEN.

All because of a hug.

Some of you have lost loved ones to COVID, and my heart hurts for you.

Some of you have contracted the virus and are still suffering its long-term effects. May God strengthen you and restore you to full health.

While we may not have been impacted so directly, I believe we've all suffered loss because of COVID-19. 

I wasn't aware how desperately I needed a hug from a friend. It's such a simple act, but one with unimaginable power.

If you're not comfortable hugging or shaking hands at this point, don't underestimate the power of a phone call; an in-person physically distanced visit; or a card popped into the mail.

You may be the one with a hurting heart or you may be instrumental in healing someone else's hurt. Most likely, a simple act of love will unlock both your hearts and fill a void neither of you may have been aware of.

No wonder the Bible says, "A friend loves at all times, and a brother [or sister] is born for adversity" (Proverbs 17:17 ESV).

Friends of the Heart by Valerie Ronald

When she enters the room where our women’s Bible study group meets, she breaks down in tears, her pain and sorrow over a wayward daughter spilling out where she knows she is safe with friends. She is embraced and given freedom to cry without hurry, without judgement; just loved because she is precious to us. We listen, encourage, share a little of our own similar stories, then we pray and talk about the faithfulness of God and how He has all things in hand concerning this situation. Later there is laughter, sweet, reviving laughter to lift our spirits and bond our hearts. Our friend leaves refreshed.

I have known many people in my life, but only a few would I call friends of the heart. Though unique, there is a common tenor in each relationship which sets it apart as a true friendship. They refresh my heart, and I delight in refreshing theirs. True friends renew each other’s spirit and vigor. They encourage and believe in one another, so time spent together is energizing, not draining. A synergy occurs when giving friends share freely of their love and support, spurring one another on to bloom as God intended.

A generous person will prosper; whoever refreshes others will be refreshed. (Prov. 11:25 NIV)

The women’s Bible study group I mentioned came about at the prompting of the Holy Spirit when a new friend asked me to start it. I was already meeting for prayer with two other women, so we formed a group of four. Only God could bring such unique personalities and life histories together to create a connection beyond a formal study. We all have a passion for God’s Word, seeking to learn it and live it in our daily lives. Hearing from each other how this is working out is a source of encouragement and faith-building. We share our triumphs and struggles on an intimate heart level rare in this day of social media isolation. Trust, compassion, respect, love; all intertwine to refresh our spirits and make us eager to meet each week. God is refreshing us through the study of His Word and the bonding of our Christ-centered friendships.

Another source of positive friendship for me is the writers group I have been a part of for many years. I would not be writing this post for InScribe today if not for the reviving camaraderie and encouragement of my peers in this group. The isolation required in being a writer can be lonely at times. I am inspired through interacting with fellow writers who have a common goal, who understand the joys and challenges of our calling and who genuinely seek to bring out the best in each other. Some of the friendships made here have spilled over into time spent together outside the group and with each other’s families, where our bond has grown beyond writing into friendship on other levels.

  As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another. (Prov. 27:17)

Jesus is our truest friend, one who sticks closer than a brother and refreshes our spirit as only He can do. He also provides for our need for human connection through those kindred spirits He brings into our lives, who love with a pure heart and speak with grace --- friends of the heart.


 

  Valerie Ronald lives in Portage la Prairie, Manitoba. She is a graduate of Vancouver’s Langara College journalism program, and has worked as a newspaper reporter, freelance writer, public speaker and bookstore employee.Valerie finds being a member of the Manitoba Christian Writers Association has honed her writing skills and confidence. She writes devotionals for her home church bulletins and her online blog. Her current book project chronicles how God’s faithfulness saw her through the dark valleys of divorce and cancer. Along with her husband, Valerie enjoys spending time with their blended family and six grandchildren.She is a nature photographer, water colourist, cat lover and Scrabble addict.

 More of her devotionals can be read on her blog https://scriptordeus.wordpress.com

For the Love of a Note by Pamela Mytroen

Box 591. I will never forget that number. It was my box number in College, you know, the student boxes in the academic building you checked every day along with a crush of students, looking for personal notes from friends, and if we were lucky, a love note.

It was this box in the middle of a hallway that magnified my love for words. Those golden words enriched my life immediately and for eternity. The moment I saw the edge of a card angled in my box I knew it would be a treasure. I would pull the other mail from my box – schedules and account information – and read it quickly while letting the anticipation of the personal note build. Who was it from? What little gems would I glean from it? Finally I would allow myself to indulge in the luxury of the personal, handwritten words. Then it would be tucked into my binder to be read again between classes or in the library for a pick-me-up during research. Reading it again before bed was the sweetest. These were notes that encouraged me to hang in there, notes that said thank you for a kindness expressed, that shared a bible verse, a prayer or a hope for a dream come true.

The notes that set my fingers shaking were from my boyfriend. It didn’t take long and I recognized the small loopy script. Though it was only a loose-leaf plucked from his binder it may as well have been written on rose-petals. My heart would thump sideways before I even finished unfolding the simple sheet of paper. The words, whether a simple “How’s your day going?” or an invitation to an evening out, always covered me in goose bumps and made even the most boring moments in class feel like a Broadway musical.

I took great care in concocting just the right phrases and sentiments when I wrote notes to my friends. When I got a response, I knew I had connected and that made it so worthwhile. I wrote notes of encouragement when a friend was lonely, scared, sick, exhausted, or just needed a little boost. Sometimes I wrote anonymous notes to send my friends on a mystery journey, intended to bring a laugh at the end when they discovered the truth. One time I wrote a note intending to be funny but my friend found it very hurtful. I realized then that words have power – for building or tearing down – and we must be careful how we use them.

We have lost a powerful sense of touch through our dependence on electronics. Social media is quick and convenient but there is something about tugging a note from a box, smoothing it out, and tucking it away to enjoy later. The sense of anticipation and reward is heightened along with the physical connection to your friend. Also, seeing their own handwriting identifies them and gives them a voice that sets them apart from the generic font of an email or text.

I wonder who uses Box 591 now. Are they rewarded as they reach into their box? Are they challenged and encouraged? I would like my writing to be as a note peeking from that box, a note that jump-starts a heart, a note that will be treasured and hidden away to be enjoyed again and again. Today I will write a note for Box 591.

Rewarding Years - Sulo Moorthy

Next month, by the time I sit down with my family to enjoy the Thanksgiving supper in San Diego, California, I would have celebrated my 65th birthday, and have a long list of blessings to thank for. At my age, simple things do matter and small gestures get appreciated. Having the mind, marriage, joints and teeth intact are no longer taken for granted.

It’s God’s mercy that I keep going, and even getting busier these years in spite of doctor's' visits, medications and growing old aches. It may sound strange, but I consider my 50s and 60s to be my best years.

It's in my fifties I got into writing and was blessed to see my byline in a few magazines, newspapers and anthologies.

As the wise King said, " To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven." (Proverbs 3:1)

In writing too, I realize there's a time to write and a time to take a break.

When I moved to California, I didn't have much time to write, polish and send for publication. I was working part-time at my husband's workplace. But I kept ordering books on amazon.com and reading them whenever I could. Writing Life, Writers on Writing, The Making of a Christian Bestseller, How to be your own Best Editor, An Introduction to Christian Writing, The Little Handbook to Perfecting the Art of Christian Writing were some of the books I bought and stocked in my bookshelf.

Never did I expect to start a writer's group at the time I bought those books. But when I started one, An introduction to Christian Writing became handy as a reference tool.

It’s also God’s grace that I found Grace Point Church as my home church, where I'm not only nourished spiritually, but also has gained many friends, most of whom are half my age. Just yesterday, one of the gals sent me an ultrasound picture of the baby in her womb. I’d like to share what she wrote to me, when I responded on seeing what she sent.

“Sulo, your friendship has meant so much to me. Thank you for your ongoin and prayers. Love you to death. Hugs, Tina.

Her words brightened my day and moistened my eyes. Senior years can be rewarding because of such love and friendship. With my part-time job as well as leading a Bible study and a Writers' group, my days seem to be full and blissful than ever before. Old age need not be dreaded. Instead it needs to be embraced, openhanded.

As I look back on the chapters of my life, I’m amazed how the Lord has orchestrated His will into my story and carried it so far. It did make me to whine and whimper when He chose to reject my petty proposals, or cut and paste some of my favorite ideas to suit His timing and purpose. The story does have its anecdotes of exodus and lamentations for anyone to tear up. But it also carries songs of love and acts of obedience for cheering up. I’ve no idea how many more chapters God has in mind to finish my story. All I hope is that it would finish well and the Author gets all the glory.

“They shall still bear fruit in old age;
They shall be fresh and flourishing.” Psalm 92:14

The Perfect Companion — Lynda Schultz

“A man of many companions may come to ruin, but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother” —Proverbs 18:22, NIV.

Try pushing him away. He may put a little distance between you and him because of your choices, but he’s always within reach and never out of sight. A whisper will reach him in a jiffy, a sigh will bring him running. He winces when you call him names and accuse him of not caring, but he never stops caring. You can try to replace him, but an army wouldn’t fit in the hole he has made in your life. Anyone else would be uncomfortable in his place—it’s not “one size fits all.”

When it rains on your life, he’s there with the umbrella and the galoshes. When it’s cold, he has the warmest mittens and the fuzziest wool socks. On sunny days, he brings flowers and cool lemonade and walks with you on the trail through the woods. He’ll walk beside you if you let him; if you’re angry at him, he’ll walk behind you. He’s already walked ahead to check for rough spots in the path even if you didn’t appreciate it. When the leaves begin to change colour and there is a sharpness in the air, he directs your attention to the flock of geese heading south and the harvest moon rising in solemn splendor.

You can ignore him, but he never ignores you. When you wrap yourself in his warmth and delight in his companionship, music takes on a sliver sound, colour reflects a different hue, pets seems more precious, and the sharp edges of people seem softer somehow. The world changes as your friendship with him deepens.

His touch is better than a band-aid on the scratches that life leaves on our soul. His voice brings comfort and counsel in ways that defy the brightest and most prepared minds. His smile lights up your world.

Other friends are good, but no one does friendship better than Jesus.

Circle of Friendship by Brenda Leyland

Sometimes we wait for someone else to invite us out for coffee, to notice we're having a down day, or to remember it's our birthday. At a party or conference or at the back of church on Sunday, we stand around hoping someone will come over and say hi to us. Because we feel too shy.

I used to do that, and I realized that, ofttimes, my supposed 'shyness' had a lot to do with my fear of rejection. I used to worry about being snubbed, so I was reluctant to risk going over and introducing myself.

As I say, that's how I used to be, until I started paying attention to the wise words that perfect love casts out fear. I began to overcome my own fear when I chose to forget about myself and focus on the needs of someone else.

I am convinced that one mustn't wait for people to reach out -- we must reach in. ~ Jan Karon

I like what Miss Jan Karon said. If you want to be a part of the group, then why not look for someone else who looks as nervous as you feel. Why not focus on making her feel more comfortable? No doubt, you'll find yourself forgetting about your own discomfort.

You could open the conversation by expressing something complimentary you've noticed about her or what she's wearing. Watch it change the atmosphere. The fear leaves, the rejection leaves, you begin to relax as you both experience that beautiful sense of belonging.

We'll never be on the outside looking in when we are the ones opening the circle to welcome someone new into our lives. A circle that does not exclude, but is ever widening to enfold a new colleague, neighbour, co-worker, or fellow conference attender.

When I started taking the initiative to reach out, I was amazed at how many new friends were gathering around me. I loved it. Talk about it changing my life for the better....and the more beautiful.
Here's to ever widening circles of friends!

Originally posted at Perfectly Pink!

Brenda lives in Alberta with her husband and their sweet tortoiseshell cat, Miss Kitty. When Brenda's not watching for glimpses of heaven in unexpected places, she's probably writing about them on her blog It's A Beautiful Life.

A True Friend - Donna Dawson

I have been posting this story in portions on my blog sites and thought all of you might enjoy it too.

A True Friend

He was a ragged piece of humanity. Dirt smudged across his face somewhat muting the yellowing of the tobacco stains that streaked the bedraggled beard. His grizzled hair was long and dull and had lost its fine, tidy edge many years ago. It hung in chunks, like the mane of a wild pony. The rheumy blue eyes that nestled deep into the cragged and folded skin of his face carried heartache to deep and eternal that the boy thought it could never be erased. But he was determined to try. With a final nod of his own unruly red mop, the young lad settled, in his mind, the thought that--yes, this was the one--and he squared his shoulders as he approached.


How long the man had sat in his dusty heap upon the unforgiving sidewalk, the boy didn't know. Nor did it matter at the moment. What mattered was that the boy must reach out to him. The Pastor had told him--them--that Christ's mandate was to go out into the world and preach the gospel. And his mother had taken it a step further and showed him in his new teen Bible where Christ had befriended people before he ever tried to share his kingdom with them. She was right. He knew that even at his half-score and two years. He had seen it in his sister when she had wanted something from him. Kindness always worked best.


The boy settled his limber and gangly, fleece and nylon-wrapped frame onto the icy surface beside the old man and tried hard not to react to the pungent waft of body odour that assaulted his nose. The crisp, bright blue of his jacket sharply contrasted with the faded and worn denim that covered, in a thin shroud, the scrawny arm next to his. An occasional shiver wracked the tired old body and the boy nestled closer in an attempt to warm the old man....

to be continued...

© Donna Dawson 2006
Author of Redeemed and The Adam & Eve Project