Dear Hardiman (and you too, Praise),

Can't remember where I heard this; but, it was a lady of a certain age (ahem) describing how hard she worked to do a 'good job' in her life, whether that meant with her family or in her profession. She had finally realized that she gave 110% every time, and the people she gave herself to always ended up 110% better off. However, she never got as much as she gave. How many of us have felt the same at some time in our lives.

After getting to know the both of you here on the Mudcat, I firmly believe that both of you are the same kind of person (as are so many of the other wonderful Mudcatters). I know I'm taking the chance of sounding 'high and mighty' here; but, you are hereby given permission to give to yourselves, 110%. Yes, your congregation, family and friends may 'need' you, but if you don't give yourselves the same loving care that I know you both give all those you come in contact with, eventually you'll both find yourselves empty.

Take some time each day to look at each other and say, "You are my love and my partner in life. I will take nothing from you that I cannot give in return. In your need, I will share my love and strength with you. And in my need, you will share your love and strength with me. Then we will never be empty, but always have each other in our hearts."

And I'll share a little story with you that my daddy used to tell me when I near the point of giving up. My grandfather lived in a small Texas town during the 1918 flu epidemic. The pastor in town had to bury more than half of the folks there, and at one point, told my grandfather that he had lost his faith in God. My grandfather told him to remember the mustard seed, and that sometimes, God shows His love in the smallest of ways. A few days later, the pastor buried a baby boy beside his mother, father, and grandparents who had all died in the two weeks before. The only member of the family left alive was a little five year old girl, with shining yellow hair and crystal blue eyes, who was the only person able to come to see her little brother buried. The pastor struggled through the service, barely able to read the words in his Bible. After trying several times to continue, he gave up and fell silent. The little girl walked over to him, and took his shaking hand in her small hand. She gave his hand a little squeeze, and said, "That's all right, Pastor. They all know we're here. And God knows too. Don't worry, I know that He'll take care of us both from now on." That pastor died about 30 years later, after serving his congregation all that time, and he was buried beside that same family.

Wishing you both all the love that I can give you, I know that you can pull through these hard times together.

-- Áine