When Love Shows Up

When Love Shows Up

Give generously to [the needy] . . . and do so without a grudging heart. Deuteronomy 15:10

“Why are you crying?” The question was asked by a volunteer for a Christian relief ministry helping those whose homes had been destroyed by Hurricane Helene. The woman (who had burst into tears in the previous moment) replied, “I’m not crying because I lost everything. I’m crying because love just showed up.”

God’s heart shows itself in His desire that we help those in need. When Moses gave the people of Israel God’s instructions before they entered the land He’d promised them, he told them, “Do not be hardhearted or tightfisted” toward the poor. “Rather, be openhanded and freely lend them whatever they need” (Deuteronomy 15:7-8). Their hearts toward the poor were to reflect God’s own: “Give generously to them and do so without a grudging heart” (15:10).

Whether in disastrous situations or everyday life, when we give to those in need out of the blessings God has kindly given us, we make evident the love of His Son, who came “to proclaim good news to the poor” (Luke 4:18). In fact, God promises He “will bless” those who share His unselfishness with others (Deuteronomy 15:10), both in this life and the next (see Luke 14:14). We can’t see God yet, but others may catch a glimpse of Him when we emulate His compassion for them. May His love show up as kindness through us today.

By 

James Banks
Our Daily Bread
Sunday, February 8, 2026
Daily email.

Please, choose each other...

 

The paramedics were strapping me onto the stretcher, the red lights flashing against the neighbor’s garage, and do you know what the loudest sound in the night was?

It wasn't the siren. It wasn't my jagged breathing.

It was you two. Standing in the driveway, arguing over who was supposed to check on me, whose turn it was to drive, who was "too busy" with work.

I closed my eyes and swallowed the lump in my throat, not from the pain in my chest, but from the pain in my heart. I wanted to scream, but I only had the strength to whisper one truth to myself:

“The day I’m no longer here… you will only have each other.”

Listen to me. Please.

I know life in America is hard right now. I know you’re tired. I see the stress in your eyes from your mortgages, the exhaustion from your corporate jobs, the noise of politics that tries to split you apart, and the endless scroll of screens that keeps you distracted.

But I see you fighting over small things as if love is something you can afford to lose. I see you keeping score—who called last, who spent more on Christmas, who Mom loved "best."

But that day is coming. Faster than you think.

The day will arrive when I won’t be the referee. There will be no more Sunday dinners where I force you to sit at the same table. No more Thanksgiving turkeys where I make you put your phones away. No more group texts where I’m the only reason you respond.

And when that quiet Tuesday comes, and the funeral flowers wilt, the only thing left standing will be what you built between yourselves.

It will be love… or it will be a terrifying silence.

Being a brother or a sister isn’t just about having the same DNA or showing up in the same old photo albums.

It’s remembering the time you camped in the backyard when you were ten.

It’s knowing exactly what a glance means across a crowded room without saying a word.

It’s being the only other person in the world who remembers the sound of your father’s laugh or the smell of my Sunday pancakes.

Being siblings means being a sanctuary, not a courtroom. It means being home, not a battleground.

So, while I still have breath in my lungs to ask this of you: Drop the pride.

Whatever old wound you are nursing? Let it go. Whatever political argument you think you need to win? It doesn’t matter. Whatever money you think is owed? It’s just paper.

Call your brother. Visit your sister. Not because you have to, but because the world is a cold place, and you are the only people who share the same history. Forgive each other, even if the apology isn't perfect. Even if they don't deserve it yet.

Don't let a misunderstood text message or a rough holiday turn into ten years of silence. I have seen too many families in this country crumble because pride weighed more than blood.

Because when I’m gone, I don’t want you to grieve me in isolation.

I don't want you standing on opposite sides of my grave. I want you to hold each other up when your knees buckle. I want you to look at each other and say, "We’re okay. We have each other."

That is my peace. That is my calm.

The house, the car, the savings—that is not your inheritance.

Your inheritance is each other.

Please, choose each other... before you no longer have the choice.

Source: The Story Maximalist on Facebook

Ralph Stanley - The Uncloudy Day

A Hope of Spring

 

And as the light returns,
Hope creeps back in, too,
The promise of what's to come,
Of life that starts anew.
As the winter sheds its layers,
And Spring prepares her way,
Each bud, each leaf, and flower
Will appear to greet the day.
The world awakens gently,
With colours bold and bright,
Though chill blows in the breeze,
We welcome back the light.
As the sun appears once more,
New dreams come into sight,
With every bloom a promise,
Nature's timing, always right.
So let us cast off shadows,
Embrace the fragrant air,
For in this dance of seasons,
Hope finds us everywhere ....

C.E Coombes ' A Hope of Spring'
Art: Daniel A. Gordon

Source: Serendipity Corner on Facebook

February and ever after...

 

Source: Etheric Echoes on Facebook

I want to be sure

 

Oh, the nights I have wasted

Caught up in my head

When I could be sleeping

And dreaming instead

The hours I’ve spent

Wishing I could be thinner

And picking apart

What I’d see in the mirror

The days I have lost

To my stubborn self-doubt

The time it has cost me

To count myself out

The moments I’ve missed

Wishing I could be more

Then hating myself

Every time I fell short

The seconds I’ve squandered

As time ticked on by

Whilst I tried to reach

For a bar set too high

But that’s in the past -

Time spent worrying, wishing,

The dark, sleepless nights

And the things I was missing

Cause all of those hours

And days are now gone;

No time to look back

Only time to move on

To more time for sleeping

And more time for dreams

Less time to tear myself

Apart at the seams

Less time for mirrors

And less time for hate

Less doubting myself

Whilst I’m lying awake

More time to limbo

The bar that I set

More moments for stubborn

Self-love and respect

‘Cause time marches on

It will never stand still

And I don’t want all of

My days to be filled

With wanting and worry,

With dread and with doubt

No, I want to be sure

I’ve made

each

moment

count

*****

Becky Hemsley 2023

Artwork by Gisele Oliveira F (gisifraga on Instagram)

This poem is from Words to Remember

Source: Becky Hemsley Poetry on Facebook

Secret Places - Jeff Victor

Image source: Etheric Echoes on Facebook

Music is my favorite CD Secret Places by Jeff Victor shared from YouTube