Earlier, I blogged about praying for something to help me get through our church choir’s summer sabbatical.  As I wondered what God would find to fill my spiritual time, I was asked to teach the adult Bible study.  I happily accepted, but then almost didn’t do it. What happened to change my mind?

One chance comment.

I was practically dancing with joy when I told a group of friends about the invitation to teach.  Then one of them shrugged.  “They asked me first.  I told them I was too busy.”

I tried to shrug it off, but the comment continued to bother me.  They didn’t want me.  They wanted someone else.  I was the also-ran.  Just how many people had they asked first?  Were they scraping the barrel when they asked me?

It bothered me while I picked out which parables to cover.  It bothered me while I wrote my first lesson.  It really bothered me when I found out that my husband had to be somewhere else that night.  Who would be my support group?

I managed a few quick prayers but I felt a bit foolish.  Hadn’t God sent this my way?  Wouldn’t praying about it sound . . . desperate?

That first night, I barely managed to look up from my notes.  Instead of looking at each person in the room, which is what I try to do when speaking to a group, I picked a few “harmless” souls to focus on.  When the class was over, I gladly sent every one on their merry way to craft class.  But wait.  One of them, a retired teacher, was still here.  Why wouldn’t she shoo?

Instead, she came up to me.  “Do you know what an honor it is for a teacher to sit in a class taught by one of her students,” she said. “And your mother would be so proud of you.”  Then she gave me a big hug.

That poor woman almost ended up with a shoulder full of tears.  Just a moment and a few kind words were all it took to buoy my confidence but to also bring home the lesson from the parable of the Good Samaritan.  The Samaritan had helped one man.  His actions wouldn’t dull the prejudice the Jews felt toward the Samaritans.  He hadn’t done anything about the harsh Roman rule.   He had helped one man.  I had compared this to Mother Teresa.  She believed that by helping one person here and one person there, her work was but a drop in the human ocean.  But she acknowledged that by not caring for that one drop, the ocean would be diminished – one drop less here and one drop less there.

Human emotions are such fragile things.  We women seem to feel our inadequacies so intensely – as you can surely tell by our posts this week.  When you feel God nudge you to say something to someone, don’t resist.  Add that one drop to the ocean of human joy.  It may be the drop that makes all the difference.