On Sundays, I visit various Primaries, and sometimes I am really aware of my outsider status. I move in a different orbit than my family and most friends. I came home last Sunday depleted and full of insecurities about the way I had interacted with people that day. My reaction to the day was mainly because I was tired and hungry, and I am just fine after some rest and a serendipitous find.
Today, as I removed some old books from a bookcase, I uncovered two albums of notes that were written to me from friends at church. I hadn’t looked at them in years. I read page after page of thank you’s, encouragements, and kind observations, and this restored some of what I have lacked lately: a steady dose of my ward friends. These notes are part of a harvest I have enjoyed from my past church callings.
The harvest from my church service, past and present, continues. I have wonderful friends, my children have learned how to serve, and I can fall back on so many life lessons from my experiences. I also see that our sacrifices have yielded blessings that I can’t name, as they are personal, steady, and continue to catch me by surprise. God is very generous.