I got my first.

6:45am: A frantic wife calls to her loving, and still asleep, husband,  “Hey, the fridge is broken.” Apparently the coils froze over. So Carly and I moved all the food out into the shed fridge, and for three days, we made trips out to the shed fridge to make dinner. Once, I even thought, “You know you’re a redneck when you find yourself in the backyard, barefoot, getting milk out of your shed fridge.”

Finally, with my trusty cordless drill in hand; I began the process of removing the panels covering the frozen coil. Ethan came over to help his dear, old dad, and you know how the story goes. He had to have a job. I gave him the job of holding all of the screws that I extracted from the panel.

Then it happened. All of a sudden, without warning and without prompting, Ethan said it. Words I had not heard from him before.  At least, not without coaching. He said it, my jaw dropped, and I wasn’t sure what to say, or how to respond. “I love you, dad.”

 

How long do we serve in an area of ministry and desire to hear about the difference we make?  How long have we served without being served? How long have we wanted to know that someone felt cared for, because of what we are doing? One day it will come.