Servant

My adopted Grandpa visited yesterday and found me in the kitchen again (he always seems to walk in when I’m working). He gave me a long look that said “You need to stop working and let someone else take your place. You do too much, and ya’ll have too much company”.

I brushed him off. Said this is what I want, 

here’s some coffee-stay for supper.

But that look bothered me. It was serious, like he really did feel sorry for me. And I don’t want that.

 I live in a home servants.

Joseph mopping the floor 'Martin style' =)

Daniel singing with the children

Dad encouraging the brothers

I fellowship with a Body of servants. 

Brian washing fellowship dishes with the little girls

Rachel serving her family

Kenny doing what he does -so naturally 

I am one in the mist of many servants.

I past him this note the next day.

Dear Grampa,

I don’t know if you fully realize how much I enjoy serving the saints that come into my parents home.

You gave me that look like “you –poor –thing” Here she is cleaning the kitchen again, without the help of certain ‘capable’ people.

I just want to let you know- this is what my hands have found to do, and I am doing it and loving every minute of it.

It’s not a burden, I don’t even consider it hard. If help is offered great (and believe me I have plenty of help) but if help is not offered even better.

Some people think deep down inside it is a sacrifice for me because it’s a sacrifice for them. But it is not a sacrifice for me. Other things are, serving is not. It’s breathing. It’s fun, its normal life.

So don’t feel sorry for me or pat me on the back. Encourage me to serve MORE , give MORE, lay down my life MORE.