July 25, 2025
– John 13:35
Earlier this week, I was driving home from a meeting when Jen called. Our son Ezekiel had a stomachache. At first, it didn’t seem like much. Just a quick check-in. But as we talked more and by the time I got home, it was clear something more serious was going on. Jen had a sense it might be appendicitis. She’s always had great discernment. She didn’t just look at the symptoms - she listened.
She picked up on something that couldn’t quite be put into words.
I drove up to the house, walked in, talked to Zeke for a minute, and then had him get in the car so I could take him to urgent care. They ran a CT scan and confirmed it was indeed appendicitis. Jen was spot on (as usual).
Everything moved fast from there. Within a couple of hours, he was taken into surgery. I told the team at Sherman I wouldn’t be able to be at the big meeting the next day. A meeting I was set to lead. It’s our once-a-quarter gathering. But this was simple. My son was going into surgery. I would be there. No decision to make.
We prayed for God’s protection, for wisdom for the doctors, and for peace. So did family, friends, and coworkers. And everything went as well as we prayed for. The surgery was smooth. He was discharged that same night. Praise Jesus!
The next morning, Zeke was up, alert, not in pain. Chillaxing. Playing Minecraft. Resting. And I started thinking - should I go to the meeting after all? Everyone had flown in. Lots of planning. The kind of thing that’s hard to reschedule. I had already told the team I wouldn’t be there. My leadership team had it covered. But I still found myself wondering.
I asked Jen. She was supportive either way. I asked my son. He said it was fine if I went. But something in me couldn’t quite settle.
I asked him to come outside with me for some fresh air. The sun was out. We sat together in the driveway. Just air and quiet. I asked him again.
Do you want me to stay home today?
He thought for a moment, then said, I do and I don’t. I just like it when you’re here.
That was all I needed to hear. Done. I told him I’d stay.
These small, nearly invisible moments make up the deepest parts of our relationships. He didn’t want to say he needed me. But I could tell. I told him - even if 1% of you wants me here, I’m here.
And I thought again about Jen. About how she knew. Not just from what he said, but what she sensed. The nuance. The subtle shifts.
That moment of discernment led us to act. It got him the care he needed.
And now, sitting with him, I felt the same kind of moment. That same opportunity to lean in. To pay attention. Not just to the words spoken, but to the tone and spirit beneath them. The slight hesitation. The heart behind the reply.
To love like Jesus doesn’t always require bold action. Sometimes it just asks us to see what’s not being said. To listen past the surface. To slow down long enough to notice when someone just wants you near.
I’m not sharing this because I always get it right. I don’t. I’ve made more wrong decisions in these moments than right. But this time, by God’s grace, I caught it.
And maybe that’s the encouragement today.
Maybe someone in your life isn’t saying the full thing out loud. But there’s a whisper behind their words. A pause in their tone. A look in their eyes. Maybe they’re saying, “I just like it when you’re here.”
If even 1% of you senses it — stay.
