"For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me..." (Matthew25:35-36)
For years I think my kids thought we were poor. All their friends had bigger houses, newer electronics, funner vacations, more stuff. We lived in a community of plenty, and it was easy to think we had little. I think I may have gotten caught in the envy trap more than once, but I have always recognized that we are not poor, and in reality have much...more than we need or deserve. But it's hard not to play the comparison game. And play it we (and they) did.
Fast forward a couple of moves and several schools. This year my kids go to our local public school where I believe 60% of the students receive free or subsidized lunches. (Don't quote me on that number, but I know it's a high percentage) None of their friends live in a 2 story home. In fact, all of them live in either a mobile home or an apartment. Friends have come to our house and marveled at what we consider an average, not elaborate, home. (Don't get me wrong, it's a very nice house, and I really like it. It's pretty, and stylish, and spacious, and the nicest house I've ever lived in). I think maybe they are starting to realize that they have much. The man-child, I think, would still like more stuff, but he says he'd be fine in a smaller house. (This from the boy who complained at how small his room was for the first 6 months we lived here) (But that's a story for another blog.)
A few months ago, Brianna came home from a friend's house where she had spent the afternoon and evening. She was hungry, and made some food for herself. And she asked me, "Mom, how come when I go to someone else's house they never give me food? I always give my friends food when they come over." I answered that it was possible that they didn't have any food, or any extra food, at their house.
She's had friends over to spend the afternoon or evening, and sometimes spend the night. Before they head out to the mall or a basketball game at school, or whatever, I will notice that the friend is wearing something of Brianna's. I said to one of them once, "You were wearing clothes when you came over, weren't you?" The girls both laughed and Brianna said, "It's because I've got style..." but more than once I've seen a girl walk out of our house wearing something of my daughter's, knowing I won't be seeing it again. While I consider the cost, Brianna doesn't think much of it at all. Perhaps she realizes that she's got plenty more clothes, or she knows that her parents will supply all her needs (and even a few wants now and then).
At the end of January Matt came home and asked Mark (I was out of town) if a friend could come and spend the weekend with us, because he needed a place to stay. Mark agreed, as long as it was okay with the parent. As the story unfolded we found out that Dennis was living by himself in a trailer. His mom was living in another trailer with his sister (there wasn't enough space for him there), and they were getting ready to move. His mom said she'd be grateful if Dennis could stay with us for a few days while they got settled. After a few days she said her heat wasn't hooked up yet, and could he stay a little longer.
Matt was thrilled to have the "little brother" he always wanted (Dennis is Brianna's age), and the two boys played a lot of video games in the basement. Dennis stayed with us for six weeks, until mid-March when we headed to Connecticut for my niece's wedding, and we told his mom Dennis couldn't stay alone in our house for 4 days.
My kids are good at offering food, clothing and shelter to "the least of these," and I don't think they even think about it, while I wonder if we have enough food for an extra unplanned mouth at dinner...but God always supplies enough. One evening about a month ago I sat down to dinner with 5 teenagers (Mark was at rehearsal). I don't think there were leftovers, but I'm pretty sure everyone had what they wanted. We have plenty of clothes to have some permanently borrowed occasionally (and I can stop thinking, "but that cost x and you just gave it away"), and we have a house with a guest room and a comfortable bed. Through my kids, God is teaching me how to do it unto Him. And since it's all His to begin with, I'm sure there'll always be enough.
Make no mistake, this generosity is something my kids are teaching me. (Or rather, God is teaching me through my kids.) I'm sure there's plenty more to teach. For now, I'm just trying to be ready to put another place at the table.
Monday, April 11, 2016
Sunday, January 3, 2016
Richard and Janna
Richard and Janna are our neighbors. They live about 8 houses down the street. Literally, down the street and around a bend. They've lived here since the neighborhood began. Actually, since before the neighborhood began. "When we moved here you had to have faith to see what could be," Richard said. They were the 10th house on the street (I think now there are probably nearly 100 houses on our street ). When the floodplains were drawn, they were told they were in a 100 year flood plain. By the time that was determined they were "grandfathered in" and didn't need to get flood insurance.
Twice before Richard and Janna were told to sandbag their house. Each time, the rising water stopped rising 15 feet or more away from the house. At 5 am Wednesday, Dec 30, they received a call again from the local volunteer fire department: sandbag, the water is rising. And so, they began. The sand arrived, and so did volunteers. They sandbagged up the back outside wall of their walk-out basement (really, a second living area in their house). Bags went up 4 feet, and triple or quadruple deep. They sandbagged inside the windows of their walk-up basement, and around the door In all, they ordered 15 yards of sand. They moved many valuables upstairs, filling their first floor. And they waited. And the water continued to approach the house. And then it started going up the sandbags. It had not rained since Sunday, but still the waters rose.
At around 10 pm the sand wall was breached. Water came in the windows, like a waterfall, Richard said. They said "goodbye" to their things and went upstairs. When the water stopped rising, it filled the basement to a height of 4 feet. At some point they cut the power. The furnace room was inundated with water. And the hot water heater. They lit a fire in the fireplace. Other new friends brought wood, three loads.
Richard retired last year. He was a teacher. In his 30 plus years he had taught history, and band. He had coached football. Now he works at a local sports memorabilia store. Janna works for AT&T. She's got 2 more years until their youngest son graduates from college, so 2 more years until retirement.
Janna quilts. Her basement was her craft area. She got her sewing machine(s) out. But I cleared out a cupboard filled with fabric. Future projects. And thread. And patterns. And more patterns. Stuff.
When Janna moved valuables upstairs, she forgot the closet under the stairs, where each of her kids had a box of memorabilia. A comic book collection, a sodden mess. Meticulously collected baseball cards, some of value. Gone.
In the back room her husband had his record album collection. 2 big boxes of them. And he had one of his favorite things...his accordion. He got it in 1974. "You can't be the most popular kid at school if you play the accordion," he said, "but everyone wanted me to play their parties. I made a lot of money with that accordion." He cried when he took that accordion to the street. He lost coaching awards, and framed team pictures signed by the players. His family crest. More prized possessions from his years as a teacher, coach and dad. Once when he was standing outside he said to me, "I just can't be in there right now." I'm surprised that he could be in there ever. I think I would be curled up in a corner somewhere, crying.
By the time we all cleared out today, all the sandbags were moved away from the house. The carpet was torn out. The furniture and other belongings were out at the street. They've turned the power back on, but are still heating with the fireplace. "What we've lost is things," said Janna, "but what we gained is new friends, a sense of community, faith in people. What we've gained is so much more."
When I hugged her goodbye this afternoon, Janna said, "You (all of us, not me) brought me my sanity today. Thank you."
At some point, while lifting sandbags, Richard said, "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." (Phil 4:13). Their faith, though shaken, remains. "If God is for us, who can be against us?" (Romans 8:31)
I hesitate to say it, but today...was a good day. A day that gave me the faith to see what could be...
Twice before Richard and Janna were told to sandbag their house. Each time, the rising water stopped rising 15 feet or more away from the house. At 5 am Wednesday, Dec 30, they received a call again from the local volunteer fire department: sandbag, the water is rising. And so, they began. The sand arrived, and so did volunteers. They sandbagged up the back outside wall of their walk-out basement (really, a second living area in their house). Bags went up 4 feet, and triple or quadruple deep. They sandbagged inside the windows of their walk-up basement, and around the door In all, they ordered 15 yards of sand. They moved many valuables upstairs, filling their first floor. And they waited. And the water continued to approach the house. And then it started going up the sandbags. It had not rained since Sunday, but still the waters rose.
At around 10 pm the sand wall was breached. Water came in the windows, like a waterfall, Richard said. They said "goodbye" to their things and went upstairs. When the water stopped rising, it filled the basement to a height of 4 feet. At some point they cut the power. The furnace room was inundated with water. And the hot water heater. They lit a fire in the fireplace. Other new friends brought wood, three loads.
Richard retired last year. He was a teacher. In his 30 plus years he had taught history, and band. He had coached football. Now he works at a local sports memorabilia store. Janna works for AT&T. She's got 2 more years until their youngest son graduates from college, so 2 more years until retirement.
Janna quilts. Her basement was her craft area. She got her sewing machine(s) out. But I cleared out a cupboard filled with fabric. Future projects. And thread. And patterns. And more patterns. Stuff.
When Janna moved valuables upstairs, she forgot the closet under the stairs, where each of her kids had a box of memorabilia. A comic book collection, a sodden mess. Meticulously collected baseball cards, some of value. Gone.
In the back room her husband had his record album collection. 2 big boxes of them. And he had one of his favorite things...his accordion. He got it in 1974. "You can't be the most popular kid at school if you play the accordion," he said, "but everyone wanted me to play their parties. I made a lot of money with that accordion." He cried when he took that accordion to the street. He lost coaching awards, and framed team pictures signed by the players. His family crest. More prized possessions from his years as a teacher, coach and dad. Once when he was standing outside he said to me, "I just can't be in there right now." I'm surprised that he could be in there ever. I think I would be curled up in a corner somewhere, crying.
By the time we all cleared out today, all the sandbags were moved away from the house. The carpet was torn out. The furniture and other belongings were out at the street. They've turned the power back on, but are still heating with the fireplace. "What we've lost is things," said Janna, "but what we gained is new friends, a sense of community, faith in people. What we've gained is so much more."
When I hugged her goodbye this afternoon, Janna said, "You (all of us, not me) brought me my sanity today. Thank you."
At some point, while lifting sandbags, Richard said, "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." (Phil 4:13). Their faith, though shaken, remains. "If God is for us, who can be against us?" (Romans 8:31)
I hesitate to say it, but today...was a good day. A day that gave me the faith to see what could be...
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