Dear friend (or soon to be friend),
I want to tell you a story.
This sounds like the title of a pretty mundane lunch. Don’t worry though, it’s about something much much better.
Let me start by telling you a little experience I had a training camp. Towards the end of camp, we had to do a fun little scenario. It involved left over meals and a pretend market place. We, as campers, had to barter for our dinner. The Adventures staff set up a bunch of tables and all the staff dressed up as different people with different cultures. They gave us paper slips to be used a currency and then threw us into this simulated street market environment. People were screaming at us to buy what they were selling while street musicians added to the noise pollution. Children tugged on our bags trying to steal whatever they could reach. Beggars followed us around speaking in gibberish and made up sign language. Everyone wanted our attention, yet we were tasked with buying our dinner. We had to drown out the distractions so we could eat.
One vendor was selling rice and another potatoes. My group was tasked with getting carbs for our whole squad. We stuck together closely while the women negotiated prices. We rejoiced as we obtained massive quantities of starchy food. We ignored the loud “Americans” that insisted on hanging out with us. We shoed away the panhandlers. We were triumphant in this venture. We had dinner!!!!
After we ate until we were completely stuffed (the most full I ever got at camp) we went to the conference center to talk about our experience. Many of the people dressed as beggars spoke about their experience. They all said basically the same thing. They had felt ignored. They just wanted to be acknowledged and feel like a person. We had failed to show them love. Even though this was all pretend they had still felt hurt, real hurt. None of the staff cared if my group was successful in obtaining enough bread and rice. No one won a prize for being the best at bartering. This wasn’t a contest. It was a test to see if we could be people oriented when given a difficult task.
We all learned a valuable lesson; a lession we can apply here in the U.S. and as we travel. I don’t ever want to make someone feel less than human. It doesn’t matter if I’m short on time, really focused, or feel I have nothing to give. I want everyone to know that they matter. It doesn’t matter if you’re homeless, down on your luck, a complete stranger, or my best friend. I want to make you feel important. We are all God’s children. Let me tell you, it warms His heart when His children are kind to one another.
So what I’ve been trying to do is to smile at strangers, pray for my friends, and give to the needy. It doesn’t matter if they appreciate it or not. I know I am doing what my Father wants.
After camp, I’ve been making more of an effort to step out of my comfort zone. To give until it stretches me, to make friends, and to show love to everyone. As I am leaving for this mission trip really soon, I’ve been forgetting to go out of my way for people. I’ve been talking more than listening. I’ve received more than I’ve given. I’m not acting like a woman of God. I care more about my upcoming adventures than I do about sewing into others.
Today, after I left the doctors office as I was pulling into the pharmacy, I saw a man in the parking lot with a sign that read “Anything helps GOD BLESS”. I wanted to ignore him. I have prescriptions to fill and bags to pack. I’m so busy. But then, I got what I like to call ‘Jesus butterflies’. Its that weird happy anxious feeling you get when you’re about to do the right thing; the thing God wants you to do. So I walked over to the man and asked if he needed anything from CVS. He asked specifically for a can of spaghetti with meatballs and coffee or Coke. I didn’t even know spaghetti could come in can form. Maybe he meant Ravioli instead and got his pastas confused. But sure enough, right by the Chef Boy R Dee was canned spaghetti!!!!! Who knew?
So I purchasased the canned pasta, a Coke, and iced coffee. I brought his humble requests out to him. He was so excited about the iced coffee. While we were talking I found $3 in my pocket, so I gave it to him. He told me how he loves God and is blessed. Also his name is Joe, or Papa Joe. He told me how he was never married and can’t believe he’s still alive because he’s old (his words, not mine). So I prayed for Papa Joe, he gave me a hug, and I said goodbye.
I left for home, feeling blessed. It made me wonder how many more wonderful connections i’ve missed out on. How many more 5 minutes did I have that I didn’t pour into others. How many more Papa Joes are out there? I think God just really opened my heart with that encounter. I pray that it stays open. I want to be a blessing to others and I want to remember that’s what I want. I also want to hear your stories. Did you ever meet a Papa Joe? Have you met someone that really blessed you when you were trying to bless them? Tell me a story that will inspire me and give me the feels. Btw, I’m still mindblown that canned spaghetti exists.
Love, Rae
