I remember struggling mightily to get four young children to church Sunday mornings.
At the time we attended a larger church that had a couple of parking lots-one near and one not-so-near the entrance.
Of course, I was never early enough to park very close to the doors so had to shepherd all four (while carrying the youngest in his car seat) across a small lane, up a hill and finally to the foyer.
What a blessed relief when some kind person opened that door for me as we approached!
It wasn’t much in the whole scheme of things.
It didn’t relieve my aching arms of the load I carried.
But it said, “I see you. I want to do the little bit I can to encourage you.”
I have never forgotten those days.
Opening the door taught me that sometimes the smallest act of kindness is the difference between a heart giving up or hanging on.
I’ve had a lot of people “hold the door” for me on this journey of child loss.
Most of them have not walked in my shoes but they could see my soul was worn and I needed encouragement.
For that I will be eternally grateful.