Musings: Hospitality, Generosity, Opportunity

(With any luck, tomorrow will be the day for knitting pictures- possibly including one of the HP movie ensemble. Fake grafting of the House "Sweater" shoulders is in progress; neckline and armhole ribbing is scheduled for completion tomorrow, followed by a very long session of weaving in ends. If I have any strength left after that, you'll see pictures.)

For the first time in my life, I think, I have hit what I could fairly call "hard times". The past few months have taken their toll, and I sit at the end of them tired, sick, broke, and now without income. It's not a particularly pleasant place to be. These circumstances have, however, given me just the right amount of time for reflection.

I knew it would be best if I stayed in the same town while my medical issues sorted themselves out. This meant putting off my dreams of grad school or, alternatively, a short-term mission placement. My life was put on hold while my survival took center stage. I was disappointed. But finally, after months and months of tough times, God delivered his whack of the clue-by-four.

I'm starting to realize that having to give up my plans is not a setback: God's timing is best. It is an opportunity. I believe I have work left to do where I am, both for myself and for my community. What exactly that work is, I can't say. I'm still waiting for the Cruise Director to hand out the itinerary, if you catch my drift. But I am learning to trust and wait. It's not an easy lesson.

Meanwhile, I'm struggling to figure out how exactly one serves God while dirt poor. Maybe the love of money is the root of all kinds of evil, but the lack of money sure makes it hard to serve God the way I want to. How can I show hospitality to people when I can't spare a can of condensed soup to feed them? How can I put in my two pennies in the offering plate when it's all I have to live on? How can I be generous when I owe people money and I could run out of food next week?

But in my good moments, I find joy again. When I'm at my best, rather than panicking about how to get things, I'm weeding things out of my life that aren't necessary. Extra blankets. Extra clothes. That second coat in my closet that belongs to the person who's shivering in the cold. (Well, not shivering today, maybe.) In some ways, this lean time is a blessing. I feel less cluttered; my purpose is in clearer focus. Not to sound too proud about it, because I'm only making meager beginnings, but I'm learning to throw away everything that separates me from Christ.

It's a fast of sorts, and I'm grateful for it. I have never been poor before, and though I'm not anywhere near real poverty yet, I feel like a layer of scales has fallen off my eyes. I'm just not quite sure what I'm looking at yet.