As I watch my growing daughters cultivate their My broom broke so I became a mail carrier shirt, I’m glad I’ve experienced both approaches to serving because there is a vast difference in the way my daughters advocate. My older daughter writes letters to Pricilla, the unsmiling child she selected out of an array of much cheerier children in need of a Compassion sponsor. Natalie taught herself Swahili so she could communicate in Pricilla’s native language. When I pointed out Pricilla has a translator, Natalie’s response was: I know, but I don’t want the words to come from someone else; I want them to come from me.
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When a friend is going through a tough time, My broom broke so I became a mail carrier shirt an encouraging note. When we walk the city streets, she stops for homeless people, prepared to give them something to let them know they matter. Yes, she wants love to come from directly her, one to one, and she wants to do it quietly without recognition, fanfare, and fuss. She is not yet grown, but already knows she is called to reach one at a time and that no one needs to know except that one. My younger daughter, who had no issue taking the stage at age four to captivate an audience on her ukulele, shares her passions outwardly. Last Spring, she unofficially declared herself an advocate for the Noticers of the world.