in her shoes

Last night, I attended a food give away at a local church (Love, Inc at Kirksville Church of the Nazarene).  It was a unique experience.  All around the perimeter of the church gym were huge boxes and crates of donated supplies.  The people that were filing through looked like they had walked out of the “people of Walmart” website, a page that my friends and I have made fun of in the past.  The volunteers were of many ages and walks of life- the elderly, families, Truman students, and KCOM students.

Those who came for supplies arrived at the church as early as noon, although the doors would not open until 5pm.  They were given a card according to their need that they were to show at each station.  They were then filed in one gym door, greeted by smiling people, and herded around the room where they picked up donated items from toilet paper to potatoes to cheese to salad.  Then a lovely young high school or college student would push the old cart to their vehicle, and they would be sent on their way.

I suppose I’ve done things before that could qualify as “charity work.”  I’ve cleaned in ghetto communities in Chicago.  I’ve roofed a house in West Virginia.  I’ve hung out with the homeless in St. Louis.  And whatever else I’ve done… but it was always me, offering a service.  Not me, placing myself in their shoes.

That is, until last night.

Because there were an abnormally large number of volunteers, I just hung out against a wall waiting to relieve one of the other workers.  Finally, I was asked to push a cart for a woman who was not only gathering items for herself, but also for her mother.  As I plodded ahead of her through the line, people greeted me warmly, and asked me if I needed granola bars or diapers. 

In that moment, my pride reared up its ugly head.  "They think it's for me!" I realized.  My first response was to look away, for the mere fact of not knowing how to respond.  I wanted to say, “I need you to know that this isn’t for me!  I don’t need this kind of help!  I am self-sufficient!”

I continued around the perimeter, picking up bags of salad and containers of yogurt for a woman I may never meet, and I was ashamed to be in her shoes.   

Mostly though, I was embarrassed for my inward reaction.

On the way out the door of the gym, where the kids were lined up in their bright orange vests to push the carts full of groceries out to the cars, a church lady handed a bouquet of tulips to each individual that walked out the doors.

At first, I thought to myself, “Flowers won’t keep them full this week.”

But then I glanced at the lady behind me, before I passed off her mother’s cart to a high school student.

As the woman with the tired face and the dirty coat accepted the bouquet of tulips, she looked up and she smiled.

Sweet Lord Jesus, 

What does it mean to be full?  What do we need to be filled with?  Oh Jesus, I need to be filled with humility and compassion.  I need grace and understanding for myself, and to give to others. 

For the woman whose cart I filled,I ask that you would fill her with Your love and grace.  And through that, Father, I ask that she would be filled with hope, and with food, and with the ability to carry on. 

I thought I was figuring this out, Lord, but apparently I'm not doing very well.  Please teach me to serve without discriminating.  Help me to give without holding back.  

Teach me to love as You have first loved me.

Amen.