As I was coming home from jiggling my curves at Curves today I saw a box turtle crossing Woodland Avenue. Apparently it was misled by the name, Woodland Ave. is not actually in the woods, it is one of the main roads across town. The speed limit is only 25 mph but I am guessing that exceeds turtle speed by quite a stretch. So I pulled over in the Jehovah's Witness parking lot (God will understand) and retrieved the turtle. It hissed when I picked it up, meaning this turtle was a female. I learned years ago that female turtles hiss, males grunt (much like their human counterparts). Regretfully I didn't learn this fact until after the demise of my pet turtle whom I had inaptly named Sam. I carried the unnamed female across the street to the grass on the other side where she could walk quite a ways before encountering a road, and it was all downhill. Even a turtle should make better time walking downhill. For all I know she turned around and headed right back into the road, but rescuing the turtle was still the right thing to do.
I mention this not just to show how kind I am, or even to tie in this great title I thought of days ago, but to segue into earlier blog entries about our spare sons, the homeless boys who lived with us over a two year period. Many questioned the wisdom of letting virtual strangers share our home (when I put it like that it does sound a little crazy), letting them have access to our possessions and hearts. And I admit I wondered at times what good it would do when there are so many more wanderers out there and when they had already been so badly damaged, but I comfort myself with knowing I shared God's word with all of them. What God does from there is His business. Rescuing them was the right thing to do.
Most of the people we encounter in life are strangers, many are downright strange and all of us are only passing through, maybe the good we do for those who cross our paths doesn't change their lives, but it is still the right thing to do. It changes us.
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