Church Works.

The women's organization within my church is a mismatched conglomoration of all different kinds of women. We are young, we are old. We have young children, and grown children, and no children. We are from up north, or down south or way far out west. We stay at home, we work, we wish we could find work. We are financially secure, and financially struggling. We are scholars, linguists, writers, bakers, and artists.

And we are sisters; united in faith, and dedicated to principles of service and love, hope and charity. As I lay on my couch, wrapped in a fleece blanket, wishing my head would stop spinning and the fever would leave my aching body, I spent a lot of time thinking of these women, and how happy I am to know them all. I thought of my friend, who so willingly took Henry for the day when my husband called, knowing that in my feverish state, I couldn't manage him at home on my own. I thought of the women who brought me dinner - who realizing there was a need, didn't even ask, just came with food when they knew my family would need it. I thought of the phone calls, the many sisters who called just to make sure I was alright. Was there anything else I needed? Could they do anything else to help?

I probably would not know these women were it not for our association at church. I wouldn't have found my dearest friends who, with young children like mine, are always available to relate and encourage. I would not know women who have raised their families, who can look me in the eye and say, "Your fifth one won't kill you. You'll be alright, just like I was. And you'll love it, just like I did." I would not know women who's lives are rich with experience, who have traveled the world and seen and done amazing things. I would not have a ready list of babysitters - women who care for and love my children and are willing to be there for them, and for me.

I know that my own little church community is not the only one that functions like this. All over the world, and in all different faiths, women are there for each other, because really, it's just what women do. It is women that are capable of working service for others so seamlessly into their daily activities - a loaf of bread, a meal, a telephone call. Having been the recipient of such thoughtful and generous acts of service, and knowing how much they have meant to me, is it too much to think that perhaps I could have the same affect on someone else? I'm not sure, but I'm sure I'm going to try. Would that my eyes will be open, that I will see the needs of those around me, and be willing to respond as readily as the women that served me this week.