A memory came to my mind this morning: At one point in my childhood, my father worked on passenger trains. He’d be gone for a few days, then my mother would pick him up at the train station and bring him home (he’d be really tired). He would slowly climb up the stairs to our upper duplex and wearily enter our home. And as he stood there, I would scoot over as fast as I could and untie his shoelaces, so he didn’t have to. I am pretty sure he had asked me or my siblings to do this the first few times he came home, exhausted, but I know that eventually I did this service for him without his request. And I delighted to do this for him, because he was my dad and I loved him.
As this memory came, it was precious to me. In this very vivid, colourful memory, there was love. I could feel it as I remembered. I didn’t resent this “menial” task, crouching or kneeling on the floor beside my father’s feet, untying his shoelaces, because I loved him and was glad to help him in this way.
And this got me thinking – thinking about how we are all to serve one another, and how it ought to be a delight when we are serving someone we love.
And then it came to me, how we are called to love everyone…everyone!
Serving all people with love.
How would that be for a world changer?
Not Weary in Well Doing 