The door bell rang yesterday afternoon, which startled me, because as with most of you I’m certain, it’s been weeks since anyone came over. On the front step, there was a package addressed to me. I didn’t remember ordering anything or winning any giveaways, so I was puzzled. When I opened the box (after Clorox wiping it down of course), I cried a few tears of joy. The packing slip inside listed my address as the delivery, but my sweet friend as the one who ordered it. There was a box of sleepy time tea, a candle, a chocolate bar, and a face mask.

My friend who sent this knew that I struggled with anxiety and sleeping most of the time, and also knew it had gotten worse with all of the uncertainty in the air the last few weeks. She knew that I’d been at an emotional low before any of this started and was well aware of the things heavy on my heart and mind. She’s the kind of friend that brings you flowers and has you over to watch a funny movie when life’s tough, because loving people for her is second nature. She sees the need in your eyes, and then sets aside her own desires and needs to help you. She’s really good at loving people, and not just when it’s easy.

When there’s a pandemic and she can’t come hug you and bring chocolate and flowers like she usually does, she mails you a little treat in a box and texts you pictures of yellow tulips every morning instead. She doesn’t let the social distancing and difficult circumstances get in the way of loving people. She just replaces her normal “I love you” with “I love you from over here.”

And we all should be doing the same thing.

The window beside my desk is open just now and the spring breeze rustles in. The soundtrack from Little Women is playing in the background and combined with the song of the birds just outside, it is a rather magical atmosphere. It’s easy to be thankful in this moment, where beauty and peace seem to swirl around me canceling the chaos and confusion of the broken world. It is in moments like these where my heart responds with glee to the command in 1 Thessalonians, “give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.”

But it was not easy last week when I was frantically reading the headlines. It was not easy when my job was canceled, several trips I’d been anticipating were delayed, and the question mark was placed on the calendar for the next time I would see my church family in person. It was not easy when my Mom got sick and was quarantined in her room for five days (just to make sure whatever she had wasn’t serious and it didn’t spread, she is better now). It was not easy last week. It will not be easy in the future. But all things considered, it should be. Because, as a Christian, I’ve been given so much. But I forget it so often. I think many of us do.

Before the sun creeps up behind the trees in our yard, she’s awake.

Some days she’s making breakfast. Some days she’s reading her Bible. Some days she’s rocking a sick baby. Some days she’s praying her heart out. Some days, she’s just sitting with her coffee on her back porch listening to the birds.

But everyday she’s my hero.

We were watching The Two Towers last night, and I cried. I don’t think crying in that movie is uncommon, especially for my fellow women, but last night was different. I didn’t cry for Frodo and Sam, I cried for myself. My tears were for this real world, not for Middle-Earth. I was the one who said, “I can’t do this, Sam.” It wasn’t Frodo who was wavering and wondering if the end really could be happy, it was me. It was my weak faith I saw on that television, not Tolkien’s magical universe.