She looked to be about six-years-old. The little boy walking beside her, perhaps her brother, was no more than four. As I pulled out of the church parking lot, they were coming up on a stretch of sidewalk that was crumbled and broken. Little brother was barefoot. Sister had on shoes.

Big sister picked up her brother and carried him across the broken pavement. She could barely hold him up—his feet almost dragged the ground as she struggled to hold on to him. Upon reaching the other side, she gently set him down.

People at church do this kind of thing every day.

An older woman watches the kids of a weary new mom.
A business person helps a young graduate find that first job.
A Sunday School teacher listens to the youngster describe their birthday party.
A group of friends buys someone in need a newer car.
Elders pray for the flock.
Folks attend the graveside service that is 90 minutes away.
Someone calls, just to check in. “How are you doing?”
A youth minister treats a student with loving respect.

Thirty plus years later I can still see in my mind’s eye, as clear as day, that little girl carrying her brother across the broken pavement. There in the rear view mirror I see her setting him back down. That memory fills me with such joy and hope. That memory just makes me want to do the loving thing.

We can be that kind of people.

The fruit of the spirit is love, . . .

I love you.

—Chris Smith