Laura Booz: I live in a small town. A small country town where we only have two traffic lights. One light coming in and one light going out. We don’t have a grocery store, a swimming pool, or even curbside recycling. In fact, we keep recycling bins in our garages until we can’t stand the plastic bottles and tin cans and newspapers one more moment. Then we load everything into the van, and drive it over to the community recycling center which is located in a gravel parking lot along the main street through town.
That’s where I found myself the other day, sorting tuna fish cans and milk jugs into the large red bins. Imagine big red dumpsters but labeled for recyclables like plastics, glass, and aluminum. The bin for paper was full to the brim. Its insides looked like a mountain of neighborhood newspapers.
I compared the size …
Laura Booz: I live in a small town. A small country town where we only have two traffic lights. One light coming in and one light going out. We don’t have a grocery store, a swimming pool, or even curbside recycling. In fact, we keep recycling bins in our garages until we can’t stand the plastic bottles and tin cans and newspapers one more moment. Then we load everything into the van, and drive it over to the community recycling center which is located in a gravel parking lot along the main street through town.
That’s where I found myself the other day, sorting tuna fish cans and milk jugs into the large red bins. Imagine big red dumpsters but labeled for recyclables like plastics, glass, and aluminum. The bin for paper was full to the brim. Its insides looked like a mountain of neighborhood newspapers.
I compared the size of my hefty pile of the kid’s old coloring pages and magazines with the available space in the bin and I sighed. This would be a workout.
Well, just as I held the mountain of papers from falling back into my face so I could shove our newspapers into the same bin, a man walked by. He wore a large, green canvas travelers’ bag on his back and a big smile on his face.
Something told me he wasn’t from around here. I don’t know . . . it was his quick pace, his rugged clothing, his “howdy do” demeanor. I thought he’s probably on an epic trek across the country and happened to be walking through our small town until he reached the next big city.
No doubt he was on his way to somewhere bigger and better, because believe me, our little town is not a destination spot.
Hi there. You’re listening to Expect Something Beautiful with Laura Booz. Your expectations really matter. And well, what you expect to matter will shape your entire story.
As he passed by, he said, “Hello! Have a good day!”
I glanced over my shoulder and said, “You too!” Papers slid down the mountain and tumbled into my arms. I returned to my work, shoving them into the bin.
A moment later the man returned and said ,“Excuse me. May I please have a piece of cardboard?”
“Oh yes, of course.” I held back the mountain with one hand, reached into my own bin for a piece of corrugated cardboard. When I handed it to him, I looked up and noticed that his face was weathered, his knuckle tattoos were blurry.
He smiled warmly and said, “Thank you.” And again he said, “Have a good day!”
I watched him as he walked away. He looked down at the piece of cardboard, and that’s when I realized what I had done. I had just given him a shipping box with our address on it.
My heart was in my throat. I didn’t know who this man was or what he was up to. To make matters worse, Ryan was overseas on a business trip, and I was flying solo. Our kids were relying on me to keep them safe, but now I put us in this precarious position.
For a moment I considered running after the man, with an empty cereal box, and asking for an exchange. But the damage had already been done, and I didn’t want to draw more attention to myself.
I was still berating myself on the way home from the recycling center, when low and behold guess who I saw standing at our town’s intersection? The man with the green backpack.
From a distance, I could see him place his bag on the sidewalk and hold up a piece of cardboard. The piece of cardboard I had given him. He had written something on it in large black letters. Oh great I thought, he was a panhandler, the only panhandler to ever stop in our little town, and he just had to be using cardboard with my name on and address on it.
I wondered what he was asking for. Money? Food? A ride to the next big city?
As I approached the intersection, I noticed that he was smiling still, a huge smile, it lit up his entire face. He was standing on his tip-toes and waving at the cars as they drove by. Reaching out, bending at the waist, trying to make eye contact with each and every person.
When I was close enough to read the words on his cardboard sign, I realized he had written the word “smile” on one side and on the other side, he had written the question, “Need love?”
I could not believe my eyes. This is what he had in mind when he asked me for a piece of cardboard? Not to panhandle for food or money, but simply to welcome people home from a long day’s work?
I don’t know, you may think that I am naïve, but from the looks of it, I believe that he happened to be walking through our town and decided to stop at our little intersection to offer some good will to our little community.
In fact, I kind of wondered if he knew Christ and was traveling from town to town to share the gospel. But I may never know.
I do know that the surprising turn of events and his question “Need love?” caught my attention.
I thought about the significance of that question for my community. As we each drove by, one car after another, returning from work, returning home, returning the man’s friendly greeting, I found myself nodding and saying “yes” aloud in the van. Yes, we need love.
I long for my neighbors to know that love isn’t just a man with a green backpack waving and smiling at the town intersection. It’s not just a feel good, touch your heart, moment. But rather love is a man named Jesus.
You know, when Jesus dwelt on earth, He never wasted a moment, but He went around doing good, continually blessing people wherever He went.
Mark 1, tells us of one time when Jesus told His disciples, “Let’s go on to the next towns that I may preach there also for that is why I came out.”
Just imagine Christ, traveling from town to town, walking with purpose, greeting people along the way. And just when you’d expect Him to breeze through a small town or brush by an unimportant person, He’d stop.
He’d put down His traveling bag to be with someone who was sick, or slow, or socially invisible. And not only to spend time with them, but to hear them and to heal them, to reveal the condition of their heart to them, and to invite them to receive Him as their Savior.
No person or place was too small or insignificant for Christ. Not Matthew the tax collector, or little old Zacchaeus, or the woman at the well, not Nazareth or Galilee, or a few square feet under a cross on Golgotha Hill.
Jesus walked the road for our salvation, and He didn’t wave a cardboard poster reminding us to smile, because Jesus is God’s smile. Jesus is God’s face lifted upon humanity. He is God’s countenance, shining upon us, that everyone who believes on Him receives forgiveness through His name.
You are not too small to matter to Him. You are not too hidden to catch His eye. If you need love, you will find it in Jesus Christ.
Once more, you and I are here on an errand, to go and tell the good news—to set our traveling bags down in some particular place where we can reach out our hands and extend good will to people, to share God’s love through Christ, and to welcome people home.
The Revive Our Hearts podcast family wants to help you know more about the love God shared with you through Jesus. You’ll find evidence of God’s love through the whole Bible, and podcasts like The Deep Well and Grounded will help you understand it more.
You can check out all of the podcasts in the Revive Our Hearts podcast family by visiting ReviveOurHearts.com.
I’m Laura Booz, and I’m praying for you.
Expect Something Beautiful is a production of Revive Our Hearts calling women to freedom, fullness, and fruitfulness in Christ.
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