When a person nears 70 and has no biological family, the search for family becomes relevant. As I have reflected on this past weekend, I am recognizing that I am in a family that God has designed.
On Thursday night, my text message “dinged” periodically as I followed the progress of my 26-year-old friend who was becoming a father for the first time. His skin is darker than mine but we are family.
On Friday, I ran into difficulty hooking up a DVD player to a TV, Cable box, and Sound bar. I knew whom to call. I knew it was his day off but I could call him anyway because we are family. Oh, by the way, his skin is a different color than mine.
When asked on an application who to call in case of an emergency I wrote the name of a friend I knew would be fine with being woken up in the middle of the night and would be there for me. I rarely think of her skin being of a different color than mine because we are family.
Tomorrow I will be contributing to a church staff prayer meeting. I will use a song from a CD that was given me by a believer half way around the world. She composed both the words and the music. In just a few times together during these past two weeks our souls have knit. Her skin is of a different color but we are family.
I am so grateful that when the disciples asked Jesus to teach them to pray the first word he used was “Our.”