Be the Best Part
“What you do makes a difference and you have to decide what kind of difference you want to make.”
– Jane Goodall
I teach this to every associate who comes to work at our hospital. I tell them that each person they come in contact with at the hospital is stressed and potentially having their worst day. And I love that we have the opportunity to be the best part in someone’s worst day ... every day. It may not be comparable to the life-saving duties I had to perform as an ICU nurse, but I truly believe speaking positivity into someone’s life or making a positive difference in someone’s day can be just as life-saving.
When I stop and think about it, my work at the hospital is so much like my life at church. I have been a minister’s wife in small churches for 15 years. If you attend a small church, you know that the best thing about a small church is how intimate it is, and the worst thing about a small church is how intimate it is. I was visiting with a preacher of a very large, very well known church, and he told me that the same things happen at his large church that happen at small churches. People can be ugly. They say horrible things said about him, his ministry, his wife, and his family. He knew we had been through some of that in our 15 years. But he said the difference is that his church is so large he sometimes doesn’t even know the person who said a hurtful thing. His wife said she can walk through their church and not know that the person who passed her has written a letter to the elders about her short dress, her parenting style, or what movie she was seen at over the weekend.
Unfortunately, it's not like that at small churches. Our lives are so intertwined. I know the name of every child at our church. I could tell you most of their middle names too! I have sat in the living room or around the kitchen table of almost every member. I’ve had insults slung at me from people I considered friends, and felt the heartache of families leaving. Everything feels personal.
But recently, when my father-in-law died unexpectedly, in the middle of a pandemic no less, I was reminded why I love a small church. The people we go to church with were the best part of our worst day. They showed up, they called, they texted, they brought food, they stood in the rain at the funeral (6 feet apart of course) and wept with us. On the day he passed, my son asked, “Why are they starting a Meal Train and babysitting for us?” I had to pull over when I opened my mouth to answer because with the words came a flood of tears. “Because that’s what a church family does,” I answered.
Churches, whether big or small, are full of hurting people. They may not be having their worst day on the Sunday that you see them, but they could be having a hard day or a tough season. I want the people whom I come in contact with to leave our time together, whether brief or extended, and think, “That was the best part of my day.” When you go to a small church I think this is easier and even more important. We know so much about each other, which gives us more opportunities to be the bright spot in each other's lives. It also affords us the ability to hold someone’s hand, look into their eyes, call them by name, and bless their day.
Sometimes I have sat in my car in the parking lot of our church before walking inside. Maybe I didn’t want to be there. Maybe I was tired, or I had work at home that needed to be done. Maybe that Wednesday night I was only coming because my kids really wanted to be there. At times like those, I try to stop and remind myself that I can choose what kind of difference I’m going to make in the lives of the people I am about to come in contact with. I make the decision to be a positive difference in their lives. I decide to do my best to smile, to pay a compliment, to give a hug, to participate in class, to speak kindness to a child, to welcome the stranger, to speak love. I may never know the difference I made in the lives of the people I come in contact with. But I’ve never once decided to be the best part of someone's day and left without a smile on my face and the love of Christ in my heart.
