...to visit orphans and widows in their distress

"This is true and undefiled religion/worship

in the sight of our God and Father:

to visit orphans and widows in their distress..."

-- James 1:27a

Photo by Shari Weinsheimer



Never was this passage from the book of James truer to me than during the period of time following my husband's death in 1989. The amazing people in my life who came up beside me and ministered to my children and me were practicing acts of worship every time they

• listened to me talk about Jim
• held me while I cried
• babysat my children
• shared a meal with me
• called me on the phone
• sat with me at church
• made me laugh
• made my children laugh
• forgave me
• mowed my lawn
• brought me groceries
• brought me flowers (loved that!)
• remembered a birthday/anniversary/special date
• sent me a card

The list could go on and on. True religion. True acts of worship. In the sight of our God and Father.

If you read last week's Vinegar Fridays' post, you know what we've been going through lately. Our "true worship" has been put to the challenge, and I hope we've fulfilled our high calling in Jesus Christ. We've visited. We've laughed. We've cried. We've shared meals. We've shoveled snow. Etc., etc., etc.

Do you know who was blessed by this? We were. There is nothing more fulfilling than being used by God to minister to the needs of others. Especially when those needs are the needs of dear friends. Especially when those same dear friends did all of the above for me when I was the widow and my children were the orphans.

Today, we spent a couple of hours at the funeral home. Before we left, I stood and watched the widower (my friend's father) sit in his wheelchair beside the casket staring lovingly at his wife of 68 years. I approached him to say goodbye:

"Your bride looks beautiful," I said softly into his ear, with my hand on his shoulder.

"Yes, she does. Just like I remember her," he replied. "I'll never forget the first time I saw her. She was 'it' for me right then ... and always was."

I smiled at him. "You were a good husband to her," I said, making a feeble attempt at comfort.

"It takes a good wife to make a good husband," he said simply.

"You were so lucky to have each other," I managed to get out before a tear rolled down my cheek.

"Yep. We were."

They were indeed. Oh to be that lucky. To know that kind of lifetime-love. To be cherished that much. Wow. Forget Angelina and Brad, Tom and Katie. This earth has lost one of its supercouples. Because, let's face it, one-half is never a whole.

Sharing my Sabbath with you,

Hana