And then there was Bob.

For as long as I can remember, she has loved to bake.

When it’s time for a gathering, her house is the place to be.  She was born to entertain.

Napkins folded.

Silver polished.

Placed neatly aside the crystal glistening on the table, the salad fork is always to the left of the one for dinner.

There is a lovely arrangement of flowers on the table, and the fireplace is aglow.

This is how she does it.

This is how she loves it.

My sister knows how to make you feel welcome.

Attention to every detail, yet she remains unpretentious.

The table is always set when company arrives, and there is always, always something good to eat at her house.

It’s a special quality in her. The part of her that wants to love you with goodness from her kitchen.

Maybe it’s the mom in her. The one who raised three children through the hungry, teenage years.

Maybe it’s because she moved up in the ranks of the girl-scouts. Their motto: ‘to serve and to help’.

But I think it’s bigger than this.

I see Christ in her.

Romans 12:6-8

We have different gifts, according to the grace given to each of us.

If your gift is prophesying, then prophesy in accordance with your faith; if it is serving, then serve; if it is teaching, then teach; if it is to encourage, then give encouragement; if it is giving, then give generously; if it is to lead, do it diligently; if it is to show mercy, do it cheerfully.

My sister is no stranger to giving.

I glanced at her calendar one day during a visit, and those little boxes for the month were bulging with to-dos.

The events of her days reflect the beauty in her heart.

From her, generosity blooms.

Monday – arrange flowers at Church.

Tuesday – take a dear friend to chemotherapy.

Wednesday – deliver dinner to a family in the parish who recently lost a loved one.

Thursday – tutor the neighborhood kids.

Friday – maybe time for laundry.

She is a stay-at-home-mom who has recognized the blessing in her role. Her schedule rivals that of any of us out there working.Just the other day when we were talking on the phone, she shared a story with me.

A story about Bob.

…

My sister found herself once again at her kitchen counter, hands wrapped around a bowl, stirring batter for yet another batch of holiday cookies.

Wanting to be sure she had baked enough, she thought through her plan.

Her daughter would soon be returning to college, and her boys were now engaged. Of course they needed a few goodies to take back with them.

Then, a fleeting thought took her by surprise.

“Take some cookies to Bob.”

Breath.

That was silly.

Bob was a neighbor whom she knew little about. She had not spoken to him other than a passing hello.

The thought seemed so random. She almost let it go.

Then she remembered a conversation with another neighbor who knew him.

My sister learned that Bob had gone thorough some tough times this past year with his health. Younger than she, I know her heart went out to him.

And then she heard it again.

“Take some cookies to Bob.”

She chuckled to herself.

Then she made up a small plate with an assortment of sweet treasures for him.Later that afternoon, she walked through the snow to Bob’s house. She knocked on the door.

No one answered.

She saw the cars in the driveway and knew that they must be home.

She knocked again, and heard voices inside.

Slowly, the door cracked open.

There was Bob.

He was dressed humbly, and had made his way to the door in a wheelchair.

Bob kindly accepted the plate.

My sister stood at the door only for a few moments.

She told him that she hoped he enjoyed this little gift, wished him well, and went back about the activities of her day.

What happened next was the true gift!

A couple of days later, my sister’s husband found a piece of paper folded and ajar in the front door. She had just checked the mail, so it couldn’t have been there for more than fifteen minutes.

She read the handwritten note and began to weep.

…

You see, those cookies that were no big deal to my sister, were a really big deal to Bob.

It had been a hard year for him.

He had been quite ill, and had been in and out of the hospital frequently. With little family living near, the loving gift of kindness that my sister brought had touched his heart.

Not just the gesture of her taking time.

The cookies that she had chosen from her Christmas tins were just the cookies that Bob needed.

They reminded him of his grandmother.

She was a woman whom he held dear, but now she was gone. Remembering better times, he was feeling lonely without her at this special time of year.

Bob wrote in his letter to my sister, that the cookies she brought reminded him of his grandmother. They were just like the ones she used to make.

And those cookies…well, they made him feel close to her this holiday. 

Bob felt cared for.

He felt loved.

And maybe, just a little bit of hope surged in his heart that precious afternoon.

All because my sister listened.

1 Kings 19:11-12

The Lord said, “Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.”

Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire.

And after the fire came a gentle whisper.

How wondrous, the Holy Spirit.

He lives in us!

That Christ would breathe into our being this incredible gift of connection to Him.

Until Christ returns, we can be certain of His comforting and guiding presence in our lives, through His Spirit.

…

This was the story of Bob and my sister.We look at the similar stories in our seemingly mundane existence.

Yet in it, there is an unfolding of teachings.

We see God’s love touching our days.

Our lives entwined.

Lives of neighbors. Of friends. And even of strangers.

This lacing in and out of our stories.

When you look at the definition of the word story, you will also find similar words. Synonyms.

Another word for story is yarn.

How beautifully God weaves His yarns. Our life stories.

Together.

An intricate tapestry, one day to become His Masterpiece.

For our days, our lives, are not our own.

We were created in His image and masterfully designed to be complete only in Him.The beautiful Bob story is a line, in a chapter, of a much bigger story.

The Greatest story ever written.

The love story that God is whispering to our hearts over and over again.

The story heard best in little callings.

In the listening to His still, quiet voice.

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Our world can be as big or as small as we make it.

My sister reaches her arms out long and wide to share her gifts.

Teaching me, that no matter how insignificant our actions may seem to us ~

God WILL use them.

With our open and attentive hearts, He will knit yarns. 

He will tell stories.

Great and beautiful in the smallest of days.

Like the days of my sister.

She makes this world a better place, by being Heaven on earth to those around her.

And when I grow up…I want to be just like her.