“Nice meeting you,” I said to the young Navy officer who stood in our kitchen and whose hand I had just shaken.

He and his wife had recently moved to our community. My husband had invited him over for coffee, hoping some simple hospitality would help this man feel welcome.

We learned that he and his wife were expecting their first baby and he had come alone as his wife was resting. I thought how challenging it would have been for me, giving birth away from the support of family and friends. I privately asked God to bless my boldness and I made an offer.

“Should you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to call,” I said as he left some time later. “I had the additional support of my parents with each of our three kids and I can’t imagine going it alone. You don’t have to, either.”

“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” he responded from our front steps. “My wife helped to raise all her brothers and sisters. But thanks for the offer, anyway.”

In light of his confidence, the call he made to us six days later came as quite a surprise.

“My wife had to have a C-section and things are rather chaotic now that we’re home,” he reported. “Do you happen to know how to work a breast pump?”

His voice was nearly drowned out by the howl of a newborn, obviously cradled in his arms, yet I could clearly detect his stress.

“Glad you thought to call,” I reassured him, “We’ll be right over.”

It had been quite sometime since I’d held a newborn and I could not wait to fill my arms with a baby, noisy or quiet.

On the way over, however, I wondered what I had gotten myself into. I had never met his wife and I felt a bit shy about boldly rushing into their home. But all concern vanished as I slipped my shoes off at their front door and quietly headed down the hall toward their bedroom. There I met a very young woman, recovering from surgery but hoping to become the very best mother possible — in spite of overwhelming concerns about working with her newborn.

She wanted to learn how to hold her beautiful baby girl so she could successfully nurse her. She wanted some assurance that the pain and discomfort she was experiencing would not only ease up but eventually disappear.

I nearly floated out of that home, two hours later. And I thank God for such a lovely memory, for the beauty of mentoring was played out in my life with great power.

It continues, to this day, to encourage me to risk again, when the opportunity arises.

Mentoring works. It unites people in surprising and sustaining ways. It sets the scene for companionship and growth. It allows the beauty of life and the power of God to be played out in ways easily detected and experienced by those involved.

I have no doubt whatsoever that God was a part of that first contact with this young family. The fussing baby settled in and nursed like a pro. Mommy’s tears dried up and her stress began to evaporate.

But well beyond the immediate, we all learned a great life lesson: when we live life in ways that require — and invite — God’s presence, we bond with people. Our lives are greatly enriched in uncalculated ways.

We also gain confidence. Some of life moves away from the mundane. And we start to envision previously unseen opportunities to serve each other because we grow in our understanding that we are not alone in our endeavors.

God really is there, after all.

Mentoring does not exist without risk. You must decide to enter into conversations and situations that may be new and different. Your schedule may be altered. You may spend more time on the phone. You may spend unbudgeted money. You will certainly realize that there are no easy, quick solutions much of the time.

But God rejoices in our growth. And I feel certain that he rejoices when we face situations requiring heavenly intervention.

You, too, will rejoice that God is there, for his presence can be easily detected by startling new ideas. Words and wisdom you never knew you possessed. Surprising new friendships and conversations that meet your needs, as well.

So to Jerry, Bob, Earl and Eleanor, June, Margaret, Candy and a score of other mentors who have touched my own life: I salute you! I thank you. I honor you by taking all you have taught me about mentoring and passing it on.