Kate Motaung grew up on the shores of Lake Michigan before spending ten years in Cape Town, South Africa. She is married to a South African and together they have three children. Kate is the author of the e-book, Letters to Grief, hosts the Five Minute Friday blog link-up, and has contributed to several other online publications. She blogs at Heading Home and can be found on Twitter @k8motaung.
When my mom was nearing the end of her battle with cancer, she expressed to my sister and me, “I’m not afraid to die. I just feel sorry for you girls.”
After the Lord called her home, we had visitation at church the day before her funeral. I remember feeling so utterly overwhelmed by all the love lavished on my sister and me during those hours.
I looked around the gathering space during the visitation and realized just how tightly wrapped my sister and I were in a cocoon of love and support. That cocoon was unwittingly spun by our mom, through her joyful labor of love and encouragement to so many over the years, out of service to her King. The Lord used her to spin that soft place for my sister and me to rest secure, even after she broke free and emerged, transformed into a new body. The Lord gave her wings and she flew into His presence, and we remained. Safe. Loved.
I felt that same love this past week. The Lord reminded me how precious such a cocoon of support can and should be to a person. How powerful a text, a call, an e-mail can be to someone going through a rough time.
We ought not underestimate the impact of a word in season.
We ought not underestimate the promise to pray.
There’s something about a shared burden that just makes it so much lighter.
Don't think your words don't matter.
Send the text. Write the card. Make the call.
God might just be using you as thread in somebody else’s cocoon.