There are moments in life that seem small on the surface…
but linger a little longer than we expect.
A quiet response.
A lack of words where we thought there might be warmth.
A moment that passes quickly—yet stays with us.
I had one of those recently.
I shared something close to my heart—my books, something I had poured time, prayer, and love into—and the response was simply… silence. No smile. No acknowledgment. Just eyes lowered and a stillness that felt heavier than words.
For a brief moment, it stung.
But as I sat with it, my thoughts gently turned to Jesus—and somehow, everything softened.
Jesus met all kinds of people.
He didn’t gather the most impressive or the most polished. He chose ordinary fishermen—men overlooked by the world, but seen deeply by Him. They followed, often imperfectly, but with hearts that were willing. They stayed close. They believed. They encouraged.
And then there were others… the quiet heroes we don’t always talk about.
Like the friends who carried the paralyzed man to Jesus. When the crowd blocked the way, they didn’t turn back. They climbed, lifted, broke through a roof if they had to—just to bring their friend closer to healing. Jesus saw their faith.
I often think… those are the kinds of people who help carry us too. The ones who lift when we’re tired. The ones who rejoice, even in the small things.
And sometimes, encouragement comes from the most unexpected places—like the Roman centurion, whose faith caused even Jesus to marvel.
But not everyone responds this way.
Some draw near… but only to a point.
Like the rich young ruler. He came with eagerness, with questions, with a desire for something more. But when the invitation required surrender, he stepped back. Quietly. Sadly.
I think we meet people like that too.
Not unkind… not harsh… just unable, in that moment, to step into joy for someone else.
And then there are the quieter experiences—like the one I had.
No criticism. No harsh words. Just… absence.
And slowly, I’m beginning to see… even this can be a form of protection.
Because Jesus is not only our Teacher—He is our Shepherd.
And a shepherd knows how to guard what is tender.
Sometimes He doesn’t allow harsh words to land.
Sometimes He simply allows silence… instead of something sharper.
Sometimes He creates a quiet distance—not to punish anyone—but to protect the soft, growing places within us.
Looking back, I don’t think that moment was really about my book.
It was simply a glimpse into where those hearts were… and a quiet reminder that not everyone is meant to stand close to what God is growing in us.
And that’s okay.
So I’m learning, slowly:
To hold close the ones who cheer—even gently.
To treasure the ones who would “carry the mat” when needed.
To receive the unexpected encouragements as small gifts from God.
And to release the silence… without trying to fill it or fix it.
Most of all, I’m learning to trust the Shepherd.
He knows who to bring near.
He knows who to keep at a distance.
And He cares deeply about the condition of our hearts.
As for me… I still want to be someone who celebrates others.
The kind of person who smiles, who encourages, who notices.
Because even if the world is sometimes quiet—
love never needs to be.
With a grateful heart,
Linda
God Bless 🙏❤️
Be Inspired! 
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