I love the families we serve in Access Ministry at our church. And I love the volunteers that my husband and I get the privilege of leading.
The past week has taught me how much they love us as well.
One of our volunteers picked us up at the airport and then spent many hours with us in the first few days, letting us rest and helping us acclimate to life as a family of five. Another volunteer brought us dinner yesterday... and another will tomorrow... and another in a week. Others have been texting and emailing and Facebooking and tweeting with encouragement. (It feels weird, to be honest, to refer to them as "our volunteers;" they are simply our friends who we happened to meet by serving together.)
Our families have served us in some of the same ways - with one bringing us dinner this Sunday and others filling my inbox with messages cheering us on - and in different ways as well: offering recommendations for specialists, giving us tips on feeding our sweet girl who likes a full belly but doesn't like the act of filling it, and hugging me with a knowing look in their eyes.
At church on Sunday, a group of volunteers and parents were waiting for me in our children's ministry lobby, and I'm not exaggerating to say that it was as joyous as the greeting we received from friends and family at the airport when we returned home.
I'm used to serving.
I'm not as accustomed to being served.
But I am thankful - oh, so thankful - to be on the receiving end.