Monday, October 31, 2016

Big Dreams and Mother Theresa

 By Lora Young

Sometimes I daydream about doing something truly amazing for God. You know, like Mother Theresa amazing.

Mother Theresa has recently been declared a saint by the Catholic Church. Now, whether or not you subscribe to the teaching that the Pope can decide someone’s sainthood, you have to admit, she was an amazing Jesus-follower.

She went to the poorest of the poor to minister God’s love and compassion. She led and inspired others to do the same. She stood for life when many others were being politically correct and she inspired others to do the same. When glory and praise came her way, she re-directed it toward God and inspired others to do the same.

Do you sense a trend?

One of my favorite quotes attributed to Mother Theresa (or is it St. Theresa?) is: “Not all of us can do great things. But we can do small things with great love.” I don’t know if she actually said those words or not, but they ring true, and for that I’m grateful.

The Christian church has a very human tendency to admire people who do great things. Billy Graham. Ravi Zacharias. Rick Warren.

And we should.

But what about admiring that dad in church who faithfully goes to work every day to provide for his family. That’s not a given anymore. In truth, it never was.

How about if we admire and even recognize the woman who has been a faithful volunteer at the local food pantry for 25 years? Or the woman who cleaned and cared for her blind neighbor without remuneration for years?

Once, when I was a new mom of a six week old, I had to go to the grocery store by myself. (Well, with the baby too.) Halfway through my shopping, when my cart was too full to abandon, he started screaming. I mean blood-curdling screams! And he wouldn’t be comforted. By the time I made it through the check-out, I was in tears and so was he.

As I stumbled to my car, with my groceries and son, a wonderful woman came alongside me. She said, “May I help you get your things in the car?” And proceeded to do just that. She told me I was doing fine and that I would be fine.

When my dad died, the funeral home needed his burial clothes as soon as possible. My mom had passed away seven years before and my older sister lived far away. At 25, the responsibility was all mine. Dad seldom wore his only suit, so it needed to be cleaned. When I explained it to the dry cleaner, he not only did the job in less than an hour, he did it for free.

Those people don’t even remember me or the kindesses they performed. But I’ll never forget them.

And the next time I daydream about doing amazingly big things for God, I’m going to remember that to God, even the little things are amazingly big.

MEET LORA: Lora Young has never lived outside the state of Missouri. She grew up reading the Little House books and Trixie Belden mysteries, so it makes sense that novels would entail history, mystery, and adventure.

Lora lives in rural Platte County with her husband, three cats, and the constant interruption of her children and grandchildren. In addition to reading, she enjoys riding her tadpole recumbent, ballroom dancing, the Oxford comma, and making stuff up. Please visit her at

 For an excerpt of Malicious Conspiracy, or to the buy the book, please go to

 Back cover copy: Samantha Eastman is Boonville, Missouri’s unofficial expert in fashion, flirting, and how to get a man, as evidenced by the prosperous, young banker waiting for her to say “yes.” So why isn’t she happy? She can’t quite say what keeps her from accepting Thad’s proposal, but she certainly wouldn’t list a small red-haired boy and outlaws on the railroad as among the reasons.

Heck Brady, trainmaster for the MK&T Railway, knows exactly what he wants. Go to college. Become a pastor. Settle down with a book-learned woman and raise a family. He hadn’t counted on a series of train robberies, a murder, and a feather-brained female derailing his plans.
As Heck tries to stay out of the robbery investigation and Sam tries to worm her way in, they both have to figure out how to achieve