Have you ever been on a highway in the early morning hours and not seen anyone else around you? No cars moving, establishments with their lights off and no visible activity? Did life on earth cease, and no one told you? It only takes a couple of other drivers to bring you back to reality... but for just a few moments, might you feel a little bit lonely and abandoned?

Every year, before we attend the Feast of Tabernacles, many congregations distribute a list of those who will not be able to attend this highly anticipated annual observance. For whatever reason, their life circumstances—usually related to health—prevent them from being able to attend. Undoubtedly, they must feel "left behind" in some sense.

I imagine that it speaks volumes to each of them when someone takes the time to send a postcard and reach out with words of encouragement. It's even better if you can possibly place a phone call or return with a gift or souvenir from your trip. Many of these individuals have attended the Feast of Tabernacles for as long as they have known what it was—possibly before some of us even came into existence. It must seem like a little piece of life is missing when you can't physically partake in God's Holy Days as you once could.

I would think it also creates a greater longing for Christ's return. When God's Kingdom is established, we will be living life as God intended in a world where "God will wipe away every tear from their eyes; there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying. There shall be no more pain, for the former things have passed away" (Revelation 21:4). I know we're all looking forward to that time.

The reason I chose to write about our shut-ins, is that I began to feel somewhat "left behind" myself at the Feast. I attended the Feast in Panama City Beach, Florida, with a 2-month-old. Life with a baby is challenging, especially when you have a 13-year-old ready to go and do! Fortunately, I have a husband who is golden and will help wherever necessary. Unfortunately, that meant he and my son were out on the beach, at the pool, hot tub and youth activities.

Life in the condo was not all it might seem. Cable TV and chocolate only go so far, and so I felt quite secluded. It made me think of the shut-ins. At least I had a nice beach view, church socialization and occasional dinners. What did they have? Were they listening to tapes and waiting for their loved ones to return, so they could listen to recounts of something they had once been able to experience for themselves?

Given too much time to think, I began to feel pretty sorry for myself. But then someone crashed my pity party. A young lady (one of our Houston teens) reached out with a kind expression that made my heart smile. One day, my husband returned from the beach and gave me a beautiful seashell. He explained that this particular young lady had waited for him to complete a beach volleyball game, so that she could give him this seashell to pass along to me. It meant so much—I really needed that! When I saw her the next day at services, I thanked her for the shell and asked her where she found it. She and her sister enthusiastically told me about their daily shell finding adventures. They even had the jellyfish stings to prove it.

Because she found me so grateful for her thoughtfulness, when we returned from the Feast, I received an entire bag of seashells. Although the shells were quite beautiful to look at, it was really the thought that meant so much to me. I keep these seashells in a glass container on my desk, so that each morning I can remember where they came from, when they came to me and how much they meant when I was feeling all but forgotten. It also serves as a daily reminder to take time for those who might be feeling "out of sight, out of mind."

I gained a greater understanding of those who might be feeling alone at a time when the rest of God's brethren are together rejoicing. Until we are all finally able to enter God's Kingdom as a family, let's continue to remember our shut-ins in heart, mind, prayers and deeds.

— Sharon VanSchuyver
Houston, Texas, North congregation (previously appeared in the Houston North Quarterly)