The Grateful Choice
It was one of those special Sabbaths—great music, anointed sermon, wonderful fellowship. The sanctuary was clearing out, people were hurrying to eat lunch in the fellowship hall, others were walking outside to their cars. Glancing over, I saw one of my friends. She sat all alone in her chair. As I stepped closer, I saw tears brimming in her eyes.
“Oh, Cheryl,”* I said as I sat down beside her. “Are you having a hard day?”
We made small talk, and I soon realized that she didn’t want to discuss the hurt inside. Not sure what else to do, I reached out and placed my arm around her shoulders. “I’m so sorry that you’re …