The second Saturday
Orange, yellow, red and green surround me this evening.
The second Saturday of the month always rolls around a bit quicker than I want.
The second Saturday of every month is always filled with a dread of all the work that lie ahead and yet a joy of all that is to come.
The second Saturday of every month I step into our church building and am in awe of the persons that fill the pews, hallways and second floor. Our building is filled with families from our county (depending on the data it's the poorest to the third poorest county in the state of Tennessee), students from a local private school, university students from a prestigious private school, professors from the university, retirees and their grandchildren that live within our community and members of Morton Memorial UMC.
Every inch of our space is used...pallets of food, bags of produce, carts used to transport the food to the cars.
Today I did not want to be there. I'm suffering with bronchitis and on any other given Saturday it wouldn't be a big deal for me to be at home resting. Today I had to be there, we had some of our key leaders out of pocket and I knew our Director of the Food Ministry might need my support for the problem solving that happens 'downstairs'. Begrudgingly I got up and went.
I arrived late, the sanctuary was already filling and people wanted my attention.
In a week where division, grief and yet celebration has been spewing across our news feed, as I stepped into our building none of that mattered. What mattered was that people came hungry. It's a hunger of longing to be seen, to matter, to feel important, and to be reminded that they are not alone. People younger than their skin might reveal, and whose hearts are larger than we might give them credit for came with a hunger deeper than I can possibly comprehend.
Hearts were opened and stories were shared.
Hospitalizations without health care to offset the cost.
Diseases that are raving the body without health care to receive any treatment.
Adults who have to admit that they cannot read or write and ask for assistant to fill out a form.
Picking up food for your neighbors because they are coming home from having a stroke and need food in the pantry.
Tears flowing because they are at the end of their rope in caring for family members.
Weariness and fear about how to walk in the midst of their situations.
Feeding others merely begins when you offer food, it only happens when we are able to set aside our discomforts and listen to one another. Hunger turns to nourishment when trust is established and vulnerability is shown.
Orange, yellow black and white they are all precious in his sight......it doesn't matter whether we are the one in need of receiving or the one willing to give, every single one of us can feed the other.
Where are you exhausted and dreading a task? May you be willing to step in, look around and sit long enough to be fed. May you have the courage to be vulnerable to others trusting that your story will be held in confidence. May you have the boldness to listen deeply to hunger of those with whom you meet. In this season of grief and celebration may you be fed.
The second Saturday of the month always rolls around a bit quicker than I want.
The second Saturday of every month is always filled with a dread of all the work that lie ahead and yet a joy of all that is to come.
The second Saturday of every month I step into our church building and am in awe of the persons that fill the pews, hallways and second floor. Our building is filled with families from our county (depending on the data it's the poorest to the third poorest county in the state of Tennessee), students from a local private school, university students from a prestigious private school, professors from the university, retirees and their grandchildren that live within our community and members of Morton Memorial UMC.
Every inch of our space is used...pallets of food, bags of produce, carts used to transport the food to the cars.
Today I did not want to be there. I'm suffering with bronchitis and on any other given Saturday it wouldn't be a big deal for me to be at home resting. Today I had to be there, we had some of our key leaders out of pocket and I knew our Director of the Food Ministry might need my support for the problem solving that happens 'downstairs'. Begrudgingly I got up and went.
I arrived late, the sanctuary was already filling and people wanted my attention.
In a week where division, grief and yet celebration has been spewing across our news feed, as I stepped into our building none of that mattered. What mattered was that people came hungry. It's a hunger of longing to be seen, to matter, to feel important, and to be reminded that they are not alone. People younger than their skin might reveal, and whose hearts are larger than we might give them credit for came with a hunger deeper than I can possibly comprehend.
Hearts were opened and stories were shared.
Hospitalizations without health care to offset the cost.
Diseases that are raving the body without health care to receive any treatment.
Adults who have to admit that they cannot read or write and ask for assistant to fill out a form.
Picking up food for your neighbors because they are coming home from having a stroke and need food in the pantry.
Tears flowing because they are at the end of their rope in caring for family members.
Weariness and fear about how to walk in the midst of their situations.
Feeding others merely begins when you offer food, it only happens when we are able to set aside our discomforts and listen to one another. Hunger turns to nourishment when trust is established and vulnerability is shown.
Orange, yellow black and white they are all precious in his sight......it doesn't matter whether we are the one in need of receiving or the one willing to give, every single one of us can feed the other.
Where are you exhausted and dreading a task? May you be willing to step in, look around and sit long enough to be fed. May you have the courage to be vulnerable to others trusting that your story will be held in confidence. May you have the boldness to listen deeply to hunger of those with whom you meet. In this season of grief and celebration may you be fed.
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