“I didn’t know you had a lawn service,” I say to my sister.

We are sitting at the breakfast table in her home in Oklahoma City with the unmistakable roar of a mower in the background. “It’s the neighbors,” she replies.

Turns out her neighbors come over and mow and weed whack without being asked.

Normally her husband would do all this, but my brother-in-law has been diagnosed with cancer and can’t do what he once did.

Frankly, I am stunned by this degree of neighborly love.

At Mass each Sunday I say a prayer asking God’s forgiveness for “what I have done and what I have failed to do.” The latter list in my case seems long, especially when it comes to helping people who have not asked for assistance.

I think of the times a friend has gone on a trip and I failed to offer a ride to the airport. And the times someone’s spouse has been out of town and I neglected to invite the one left behind to supper.

It is so easy to think that “someone else” will mow the lawn of friends who are ill. Someone else will offer hospitality. And show up at the hospital.

It’s also tempting to think a phone call is sufficient when a friend faces a crisis. But there is something called the “ministry of presence.” In truth, sometimes people just need someone there with them.

And the motto of this ministry is compelling: “You can pretend to care, but you can’t pretend to be there.”

Sitting with my sister, I think of the ones who were there beneath the cross during the crucifixion, while others ran away.

As for me, I flew out to Oklahoma to help the family during this crisis, but I’m not patting myself on the back for my efforts.

Instead, I feel I have quite a bit to learn about faith.

Maybe faith without works is like having a garden crammed with plastic plants. But faith linked to day-to-day sacrifices produces real seeds that yield a huge harvest.

The neighbors mowing the lawn of a man stricken with cancer are planting seeds of love. Some are gently taking root in the heart of a visitor sitting at the breakfast table.

My prayer is that the Lord will show me those who are ailing, grieving and troubled so that I may plant seeds of love when I return home to Georgia.

“Forgive me, Lord, for the things I have failed to do. And help me remember that the heaviest cross is the one that is carried all alone.”