Still awful.

So, I was a really loud, bratty, selfish kid. Maybe more so than others, maybe not. Doesn't matter. I have this vauge rememberance of mom trying to cut and serve dessert, and my sister or I, in full-out selfish wails, would cry and complain that the other got the larger piece. Whoever thought they got the better deal would slowly eat their dessert, with a smug smile in place, licking the fork clean between bites. Yes, we were awful.

I'd like to think things have improved, but they really haven't. If I invite you for dinner and have baked a cheesecake for dessert, I will appear the gracious hostess and present you with the larger piece. Of course, you haven't seen me scarfing bites down in the kitchen while you couldn't see. Yes, I'm still awful.

*****

There is a Family Circus comic, where the mother is standing in a bakery and is talking across the display case to the baker. The baker holds a cake she has chosen, adorned with a cherry on top. With her kids hanging off her legs, she asks "Could you please remove the cherry. It's difficult to divide five ways".

*****

The CBC had an amazing programme on one night this past week. It was an interview with a woman who acted when she heard of need. The year previous, this woman had been listening to the CBC, and had heard of some African children, orphaned by HIV, living with an uncle. The children slept on the dirt floor as there was no money for beds. The children didn't attend school, as there was no money for uniforms or school fees.

So this woman made some phone calls, and found this family. She gave $700 to this family, and it has changed their lives. They now sleep in bunk beds. They now go to school. They now have hope.

The woman who did this said essentially, that while she could not help everyone, she could help someone.

*****

I keep a magazine clipping on my desk. It tells the story of Beverly Powell. In 2000, Beverly read a newspaper article written about a terrible murder in South Africa. A black worker was dragged behind the pick-up truck of his white boss until dead. The worker's wife, Adelina Rampuru, now left to raise two boys alone without any income was quoted in the paper saying "I hate every white I see. I think my kids are going to hate whites for their whole lives."

Beverly (a white woman living in New Mexico) was moved by this letter, even more so because just a short time earlier a similar tragedy had occurred in the southern United States. Beverly didn't just feel for the Rampuru family though, she acted. She wrote a letter, and within that letter asked "Can you find it in your heart not to hate us?" Beverly scraped together some money (not easy, as her job as a cleaning lady didn't pay very good wages), and put it in with the letter. All she had was a name and a township in South Africa. Beverly hoped for the best.

Adelina, miraculously, received the letter and the money. She was stunned that someone on the other side of the world had heard her story and cared. She wrote back to Beverly. And there began a powerful friendship. Beverly sent every extra dollar she had to Angelina, paying for food and clothes and school fees. Beverly went without a vacation for years, just to have some extra money to send to Angelina and her sons, who were now family.

*****

"'I was hungry and you fed me,
I was thirsty and you gave me a drink,
I was homeless and you gave me a room,
I was shivering and you gave me clothes,
I was sick and you stopped to visit,
I was in prison and you came to me.'

'Master, what are you talking about? When did we ever see you hungry and feed you, thirsty and give you a drink? And when did we ever see you sick or in prison and come to you?'

Then the King will say 'I am telling the solemn truth: Whenever you did one of these things to someone overlooked or ignored, that was me--you did it to me.'"

Matthew 25:35, 40 (The Message)

*****

Garth has been writing about a group he belongs to, and their efforts to secure the safety of an African family. It has not been easy. They has persevered. Garth rightly pointed out in his comments lately that we all need to do what we can within our communities.

Steph wrote something so striking lately... "This morning I feel helpless, I feel angry and yet I know there are people who are making the difference, one person at a time."

*****

And I have such a clear picture of myself in the world at this moment. It isn't pretty. I sit with a smug smile on my face, slowly licking my fork between bites. I've given others a mere bite from my plate, but I sit (uncontentedly) with the rest before me. And I still complain that someone else got a bigger portion than me.

As I re-read the words of the New Testament, there are some key things I find missing. I never see Jesus saying how little we can give, only to give. I never see Jesus healing only those who were thankful, only healing. I never see Jesus saying "Yea, that's pretty good. You've given enough. You can stop now."

And as sit here writing, I am painfully aware that some brother or sister is suffering because I've been content with token giving; because I am so slow in understanding what it is to love as Christ. I am completely convinced that the world could be changed to God's glory if we loved generously, one person at a time. I can't help everyone. I can help someone.

But I haven't. Still awful.