I dreamed Saturday night a week ago of my Grandfather. I was named after him. As soon as I was old enough, I spent every summer at his farm, 18 miles from Muncie, Indiana (our home), as his (unpaid) hired hand.
I followed him around as he went about the myriad tasks of farming. I handed him tools, mucked out cow stalls, went after screws and nuts that dropped down inside whatever he was working on (he nicknamed me, “Greasy.”) As soon as I could reach the pedals, I drove the truck out into the field, bringing water to the farm hands.
I was his shadow and unconsciously I mimicked him. (Even now, my signature looks like his.) He was a farmer, but also a wise theologian. Most of what I know I learned from him.
In the dream, we were walking down the hall of a nursing home. I was showing him around for some reason. I passed a lot of doors and as I reached the end of the hall I noticed he was no longer walking right behind me. I looked back and saw he had stopped in front of a lady in a wheelchair and was listening closely to her talking about her condition and her life.
We can’t visit in nursing homes right now, but perhaps we can stop whatever we are doing to listen to someone who is lonely and needs someone to listen to them tell of their ups and downs, treating him/her with the great importance that he/she (and we) deserve as a child of God, living in the Kingdom of our Father. We can certainly call someone on the phone who is by themselves most of the day.
God of Love, we turn to You seeking Your presence and listening for Your guidance. Help us to respond to those You send us and be committed to You in love and trust. So let it be!
Offered by the Rev. Dr. Frank Johnson
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