Some people are camera shy.
Some people are shy when they have to get up and talk in front of others.
Some people are shy when they sing in front of an audience.
Some people are God shy.

Someone is going through something difficult.
That person makes their trial known.
Others respond to their situation.
Sending positive thoughts, they say.

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We talk many Thursdays at the grocery store.
There is no department that he works in consistently.
He pushes things, pulls things, cleans things, and sorts things.
I can tell that he enjoys people.

I do not remember how we started to talk about books.
It was a few years ago.
He likes science fiction.
He also loves the Bible.

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When my husband and I were first married, we lived in an apartment.
The apartment was located in my favorite place of Amish buggies.
We had a newspaper delivered every day.
There was a column in the Sunday paper that caught my eye.

Various people wrote something each week for this column.
The content varied.
I had no idea if the writers were on staff at the paper.
I would often read the column on a Sunday afternoon.

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It always seems to happen in the grocery store.
It is never planned, at least not by me.
Conversations are shared as each of my items are scanned.
It was a terribly rainy day; the store was not as busy as usual.

A young woman was scanning my items.
Another young woman came over to bag my groceries.
I brought my own bags, I said as she was beginning to use plastic ones.
She smiled; I noticed her bright pink headband.

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It was Bible study day.
The morning is a busy one, as I get ready for all the women to come to my home.
I bake in the morning.
I make coffee and put the hot water on for tea.

You love it, my husband always says.
I do.
It is a privilege to teach God’s Word.
I love seeing my house full, my kitchen warm, and the women’s hearts eager to learn.

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My son and daughter-in-love have been married for four months.
At Thanksgiving, my daughter-in-love announced that she was going back to school.
She already has her college degree.
She was going back to school for eighteen months for a certification.

She wants to be a sign language interpreter.
It is something I always wanted to do, she told us.
She had been working prior to their marriage.
She decided to give her two weeks notice before the end of the year.

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There it was in the middle of the road.
It was left from the first snowfall we had a few days ago.
Snow fell on top of the autumn leaves that did not even have a chance to blow away.
The storm was a treacherous wintry mix.

The evening commute was terrible for almost everyone.
Even with an early dismissal, the school buses took a long time to complete their routes.
My daughter’s fifteen minute commute from work took an hour longer.
It took my son-in-love three hours to get home, when it should have taken twenty minutes.

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I saw him ask a question at the counter.
I saw him but I also smelled him.
It was a combination of cigarette smoke and body odor.
I could see the customer service person turn away for a moment.

His clothes were disheveled.
His hair was wild, going in all directions.
His teeth looked as if he had not been to the dentist in a while.
All the while I kept thinking one thought.

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There are missionaries all over the world.
There are people to be reached all across the globe.
Just as important, if not more so, are the people in our own backyards.
The people that we see everyday but do not really see.

Their needs may not seem as great as the needs of people living in poverty or oppression.
Their needs are quieter.
Their needs can easily go by the wayside.
We can look right through them on any given day.

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On Wednesday evenings throughout the summer, I attend a women’s bible study.
It is a blessing to be with women from my church.
The bible study is in a home.
Each week a different women leads the group.

This past week was my turn to lead.
After teaching a bible study in my home for nine months of the year, it is nice to sit.
It is nice to be a student.
It is wonderful to glean from each of the women.

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