Loving the Least of These: A Simple Manual

It was a Monday. We’ve all had them, those Mondays that begin with disarray and distraction and feel like an endless loop of chaos and confusion certain to bleed over into the rest of the week. Every conceivable thing that can go wrong does, with a few surprises thrown in.

I’m actually pretty used to days like these. Both my personal and professional lives revolve around children and their idiosyncrasies, so I expect potholes in the path of my days. I tend to twirl through life in a frenzy of energy, chaos, and over-scheduled craziness.

My husband, however, does not. He’s the calm one in our relationship. Thus, this particular Monday hit hard.

I had been traveling, and I arrived home Sunday afternoon. Between airport pick-up, kid parties, and family commitments, as well as a small emergency thrown in, we left my husband’s car somewhere other than our driveway. He had to begin his work week with all of us in tow and pick up our oldest at camp on the way to get his car and meet his new boss. It was not the most fortuitous prelude to his day.

We were late. We were loud. We forgot his car keys and had to turn around to get them, which made us even later. He couldn’t take calls, and when he tried, we couldn’t stay quiet enough to allow professional conversation. At one point, I thought his head might explode.

The culmination came when we were exiting the school parking lot. A blue minivan turned into the driveway (which is situated on a busy road) and screeched to a halt within inches of our suburban. The elderly driver half-rolled her window down while opening the door before coming to a complete stop.

My husband quickly rolled down his window, calling out to her. After ascertaining that she was unhurt, he tried to coax her into driving further into the campus lot, as she was halfway out, creating a perilous situation. He finally had to get out of the car and walk over to convince her to move.

Her story was this: She had a doctor appointment at a clinic that no longer accepted her as a patient. They had given her verbal directions to their second location, and she was lost. She’d been driving around for an hour trying to find it, had the scare of her life with an 18-wheeler on the freeway, and had asked directions from two additional people to no avail. She could not figure out where she was going.

Did I mention she was 95 years old?

My husband persuaded her to park, promising to help her find her way. He got back into the car, took a deep breath, then sighed and shook his head. He parked next to her, Googled the clinic number, called it, and got the address. He climbed back out of the car, explained to our new friend that he knew where to go, and told her to follow us, promising not to lose her on the way.

I watched him put aside his irritation and busyness as he drove patiently, avoiding the interstate and pausing at yellow lights to prevent getting separated from her. I treasured his ability to pause, discern in the midst of an out-of-control environment the loving thing to do, and then do it fully. As we drove, he openly marveled at her ability to get around so well at such an advanced age.

The Bible says,  “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me’” (Matt. 25:40 NIV).

It is revealed in how we treat those who cannot repay or reward us in any way, who may get in the way of our “business” and perhaps do so at the most inopportune times—the least of these.

The world may never know what we do for them, but the World Maker will.

We probably won’t have a crowd cheering for us in these moments, but the Audience of One, who truly matters, will be smiling in approval.

We won’t be compensated in worldly ways, but our eternal reward is beyond compare.

We may not get a thank you, but an attitude of gratitude on our end brings true joy to the table.

What a lesson we learned that day. What a blessing to see as a wife. What an amazing thing to witness my children watching the workings of our Father shine through in their dad. What a blessing to witness what it looks like to love the least of these.

Monday was a Monday ­and so much more.

Rebecca Greebon is a wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend, and child of the One True King. She has a passion for sharing with others how amazing they are, how much they are loved, and how blessed every day is, even when we are lost or distracted or completely over ourselves and the world. Rebecca blogs at theriverchick.com.

 

Photograph by SplitShire.