This weekend was FULL. Rich and full… like a healthy meal and tea by the bonfire – that was our weekend. And it is at the end of days such as this I realize how rich I am. Rich in God-gifts. Rich in friends, family. Rich in the ‘us’ of life. Rich in the ‘what matters’ of life.
Cherished friends welcome us with open arms. Even us, with our three and our chaos. We share a meal and cuddles with oodles of fluffy goats. My heart is warmed with the richness of this-
And why me for the full life? Why me?
What did I ever do to ‘deserve’ this life?
Nothing. I did nothing and I deserve nothing.
This thought has been a theme for me for quite a while. And where does blessing run over? Where does it bubble over, burn the stove, and beg to be poured into a new pot? When? Not soon enough.
On resurrection Sunday, I held babies and hugged crying toddlers and then cried myself all the way home from Church.
“I’m sorry, I’m nuts, I know…” I whispered to my husband in full car.
“No, hun, I understand, I’m right there with you… I get it.”
I was trying to put into words how I am going to stand this Friday in front of hundreds of women and represent two Ugandans whose generosity brings me to my knees. Why me? Why me to tell their story? Why not them? I’m angry now. Why me so much and them so little and yet them so giving and this world is so messed up. Why am I living the Rich Life? Because I choose to buy a country hutch – and that cash would have paid a child’s medical bill. Because I go out for dinner, and that $50 I swallowed down – was all one man had, and he gave every penny to train to be a pastor in Kampala.
Why me here, safe and sound in our little country home? Why her there, in danger of being raped and tortured, with no hope for justice? Why.
Why me with the riches? And why me here and telling stories that aren’t mine to tell? And why me so greedy – even when I think I am generous…
even when I puff myself up because, oh, we love nature, and, oh, we see beauty, and yes, we rock babies, and we gave our few bucks.
Big things are stirring in this heart of mine. I like it. I cling to it. I will keep asking the why mes, because I know there is a divine answer. And I’m getting there.