This post was originally published on the GT Blog
I just wanted to leave. I wanted outta there in the fastest way possible. I wanted to be at home with my family, in my room, where everything was familiar. I was 10 years old, it was my birthday and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what I was feeling or why.
I grew up in suburban neighborhoods where everyone was pretty much the same. Not wealthy by any stretch of the imagination but not poor either. I did all the typical kid stuff that you did in the 80’s- staying out to play till it got dark, catching lightening bugs, riding my bike or walking all over creation, eating Pop Rocks and then drinking soda to see if I’d actually explode…all the important things.
When I was around 9 years old we started attending a church in the city. I really didn’t know anyone there but I begrudgingly attended their Wednesday night children’s program. We would play in the gym, do some kind of activity, and earn fake money with which to buy trinkets or candy at the church store for memorizing scripture verses. Just for the record, I never earned a penny.
But on the evening of Wednesday November 4th, 1980-something the program was going to be a little different. Instead of our usual time in the gym, we were all going by bus to a bonfire. Sounded like fun, but being the social butterfly that I was and not knowing anyone there, this was just torture for me. As I was sitting by myself on the bus a very outgoing girl started talking to me. You’d think I would have been thrilled to have someone to talk to but I wasn’t. I didn’t want her to talk to me. Her clothes were mismatched and dirty with holes in them, her hair was greasy and messy, by the way she smelled she clearly hadn’t showered in some time, and my 10 year old self just didn’t know what to do with that. I was very uncomfortable but at that age I could not quite put a finger on why. Having lots of friends at school who were all pretty much like me, I had never encountered anything like this before.
As she and I talked she learned that it was my birthday. Oh she was so happy for me! Genuinely happy for me! Which made me even more uncomfortable. Then she did something I’ll never forget. She reached in her pocket and handed me every single fake dollar she had earned for memorizing her bible verses and insisted I take it. She said she wanted me to use it to buy a birthday present for myself. I wanted the earth to drop out from under me and swallow me whole. I reluctantly took the money from her and stared out the window for the rest of the bus ride, fighting back tears.
I didn’t know why I wanted to cry. All I knew was that I just wanted to leave. I wanted to go home. I had never been around another girl my age who smelled, or sounded like she did; who had nothing but gave me everything. It was too much for my just barely 10 year old self to process and though I tried so hard to fight it, thinking that if I just kept my head turned and stared hard enough out that window I could stop it, the tears rolled.
Obviously I’ve never forgotten that girl. Looking back on it as an adult can bring tears to my eyes all over again just as if I were right back on that bus.
I’m sure she probably thought I had it all and yet I didn’t even want to give her my conversation.
She had nothing of worldly value to me.
But she still reached in her pocket and gave me everything she did have.
It still amazes me.
What an incredibly generous gift.
I now realize that she was far richer than I was or maybe ever will be. She had stored up the treasure of God’s word in her heart week after week faithfully and the overflow of that was poured out on me in her generosity. I didn’t deserve it.
All I had was an eraser and a candy bar that I bought with the money she gave me.
She’s the one who had it all.
When I think about it I realize she didn’t just give me money, she gave me her time, friendship, conversation, and even joy that evening. It didn’t matter how much or what it was, she was generous with everything she had. And it doesn’t matter how much, or what we give. It’s our generosity that matters. Are we generous with our love? With our time? With our conversation? With our friendship and who we give it to? And yes, with our resources (fake or real ;)?
Her generosity left an undeniable mark on me.
I don’t know her name, but I’ve prayed for her over the years. Prayed that I could be a little more like her. Prayed that she would be blessed with wonderful friends and family and that her every need would be met. Prayed that I could be half as generous as she was. Prayed that I could look as much like Jesus as she did on that evening of November 4th 1980-something.
READ //
Psalm 112: 3-5
2 Corinthians 8:2
JOURNAL PROMPT & DISCUSSION QUESTIONS //
Has anyone’s generosity toward you ever influenced you to be more generous yourself?
In what ways can you be more generous with your time, talents, and resources this week?
PRAYER FOCUS //
Mark 12:41-44
Is it easier for you to be generous with some people than others? Why?Dear Lord, we want to look more like you. Help us to be more generous with all that you’ve given us. Help us to see the needs around us and be quick to respond to them. Help us to honor you with our time, talents and resources, and help us to see everyone as you see them- as loved, valued, children of God. Help us to be a Godly light and influence with our generosity. In Jesus’ name…
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