A soft heart.
Growing up. there was this one night we were all in bed. Our house wasn’t air conditioned, there was one box fan and open windows. Suddenly, we all heard the most horrific howling coming from somewhere in the woods. It went on for quite a while, before finally stopping. To say it was frightening was an understatement. The next morning mom and I walked down the path to the bottom of the hill. There we found an injured dog lying in the shelter created by an old tire, time and weather. We kept the dog fed and with water until its injured leg healed enough to allow it to move and return to where it belonged. We’re talking over fifty years ago, before all of today’s methods of finding a lost pet’s home was available.
My mother also and to this day, feeds birds. Then and now, if the feeders are empty, they come to windows to let her know.
They fed a family of stray cats until another home was found for them.
I have seen mom also help people in need through various means. Ways that allowed the person to maintain their dignity while receiving help.
I have watched my son, my smart mouthed, got an attitude son, show that he too, has a soft heart, an old soul that shows up and out when needed. I’ve watched him help his grandparents out of a car, I’ve watched him walk slowly along with them, making sure they got where they were going safely. I’ve seen him do that with other people who aren’t related. I’ve seen him, take care of people and animals even when he didn’t have to do such.
I want, that soft heart.
The heart that sees someone or something in need, and readily and quickly steps into action to respond to a need. I want that soft heart, that doesn’t judge, that doesn’t condemn, that doesn’t think of anything but helping in a time of need.
My mother told me moments ago of something that happened yesterday. She was going for groceries along a rural road. The car in front of her suddenly stopped in a curve. She thought the driver was having car trouble. The driver gets out, walks toward the front of her car and picks up a small turtle. She carries it across the road in the direction the turtle had been heading. Ignoring all the drivers honking in protest. Not mom, I wonder at times if she even knows her car has a horn. Once the other driver had the small turtle safe, she returned to her car and went on her way.
That is the heart I want. That no matter who protests, no matter how loud they protest and complain, I want the heart that sees a need and responds. In the grand scheme of things, it may not make that much of a difference, but to the one in need, human or animal, it may mean the world.
I want to understand that. I want to understand that a few moments of time spent, may not mean that much to me, but to the one in need, to have someone care enough, have heart enough, may change everything. For people, no matter their need, great or small, for someone to assist partially or fully can help them to move forward. To have heart and hope that there are resolutions to their struggles. That they are seen, they are heard, they are found worthy of assistance.
I want the heart, soft enough to feel the needs enough, that I seek ways to be of help. Whether individually or through a group. Whether it means donating items, money, or time. Whether it means spending time with people, or spending time in prayer for people.
I want a soft heart. One not driven to hide behind walls. One not turned to stone because of real or perceived mistreatment. I want a heart, soft enough, caring enough, willing enough, to feel, to understand, to act.
I want a heart, so soft and yet so filled with love, that it would be like the heart of my Lord, not only willing, but willing giving His life for me, for mankind.