Just a Bag of Rice

I want to tell you a story, and it’s a story that I have finally decided to tell you, because it shows me how God answers prayers, and His perfection in timing. It’s something that greatly encouraged me, and I hope that it will greatly encourage you. 

In almost every place I’ve been this year, there’s been only a few people each month who’ve stood out – out of the hundreds that I might meet, only two or three give me the feeling that I was there for a reason. Two or three who become more than names, more than stories, more than faces. For the better part of the second ministry location in Uganda, I didn’t understand why I was there. Not really, anyway. I loved it, and I loved the church we were at, I loved the people, but I wasn’t clicking quite as well as I typically do. All the elements were there, but I was missing something.
 

And then our contact, Miss Evelyn, told me a story about a woman in the church, and the missing piece fell into place.

I’ll say that her name is Grace. She couldn’t be a day over 30, a beautiful young lady with 4 young children and a heart of gold. She’s married to a man who ran off 3 months ago, who fathered 3 of her children and, before he abandoned ship and disappeared, dropped off a 4th child – a child he’d had with some other woman.

Miss E told me all this and that she’d asked Grace why she didn’t feed the baby when she started crying during Evening Glory one night. Grace replied that she hadn’t been able to eat in a while; her body wasn’t producing milk to feed the infant. Grace had run out of money, out of food. She was hungry, the kids were hungry, the baby was hungry. 

And none of us, none of us had any idea this was happening until now. 

I was more heartbroken than angry. The weight that I felt when I ran back to the little baby on the sidewalk in Kampala (you can read the story HERE), it was the same that I felt now. I didn’t have a whole lot to give Grace…less than $10. Almost nothing. We were able to get a little bag of rice, a bag of grain (for ugali), some cooking oil, and something to make soup. All of this did nothing to justify the pain in my heart. This would equal a small meal for each of them, my mind calculated quickly. A small meal…and Grace might not even eat any of it so that the kids will have more. 

It wasn’t fair. 

Oh Lord, it wasn’t fair.

And still, it crossed my mind to back out, once or twice…I started to not trust my intentions; wondered if my heart was in the right place; what if she recoiled and was hurt and embarassed instead of encouraged? What if this puts pressure on Miss E and Pastor Fred to always give things away when people are in need? What if I do more harm than good?

But I knew I had to do something.

In all honesty, an ugly part of me did want some glory. If I told you otherwise, I’d be lying. But that part was small and fragile…and it was weakened by knowing all I had to give was terribly little. How could I boast about something so small?  My heart’s desire was that Grace would know that God hears her. A simple message. I didn’t want my pride or self-righteous attitude to get in the way of that. As I carried those small bags to Grace’s house, I asked God to keep my intentions pure and to make this about Him and His love for Grace. 

Grace and her family live in a one-room house. Right next door is another one room house, and next to that one is another one room house…altogether it creates a little community of 6 or 8 “houses” all stuck together – common to see here.

I could see the basic entirety of her house from the doorway – it was probably the size of my old room, with a bed against the far wall, maybe a foot of walking space, and then another bed – for the kids I’m assuming. All 4 children were laying down on it or playing on the floor when Grace opened the door.

I told Grace that there was some food for her in the bag I was carrying. I told her that I knew it wouldn’t last very long, there wasn’t much, but I felt like the Lord put her and her family on my heart and I had to give what I could. I told her that I wanted her to know that God hears her, that He sees her, and that He loves her. I told her that she had a great faith in him and a great love for him – still coming to church and to Evening Glory each night, regardless of how hungry or tired she was. It might’ve sounded pretty generic, but I really did mean everything that I said. I wished with all that was in me that there was more I could do for them. I prayed, she said a quiet “thank you,” and then we left.

On the way home, I told Miss E that I was praying God would multiply the food. I knew He could do it…but I’ll be honest, I wasn’t expecting much. 

The only thing I really expected was…that that would be it. 

But we got home, and shortly after that, Miss E came to find me and said, “I have something I feel like I should tell you. The lady who lives next door to Grace had been at the house the whole day. She told Grace that while Grace was away, the kids began to sing worship songs to God. And then they prayed, and one of them asked God to bring them some rice today.” 

Rice.

When the neighbor heard that some people had come and dropped off a bag of food that contained rice, she told Grace,  “Surely your God lives in your house.”

And if the story ended there, I would’ve been content. I was overwhelmed with awe at these children, none older than 6 or 7, who had such pure faith; that God had used rice in such a big way today; that God had pushed me to do something for Grace. 

But the story didn’t end there. 

The next morning, Miss E came to tell me some more news, good news. Grace’s husband, for whatever reason, who had disappeared 3 months ago and had since made no effort to contact Grace at all, had randomly wired a good amount of cash (much more than my measly 12,000 shillings!) to the pastor’s phone. 

As I was slowly recovering from shock at this news, Miss Evelyn told me, with a giant smile on her face, “Do you remember what you prayed yesterday as we left Grace’s house?” Of course I did…that God would multiply the food and make it last longer than possible. “He answered your prayer,” she told me with joy.

I wouldn’t have done anything if GOD didn’t put Grace and her situation so heavily on my heart. 

If He hadn’t, my heart would’ve been moved by her story, but it would’ve remained a story – another distant injustice that would seem pointless for me to get involved. 

But God said “Go,” and it’s getting harder and harder to argue with Him. He answered my prayers, for a woman I barely knew. He heard those children asking Him for rice, and pushed me at a specific time.

At the perfect time.

It’s situations like these that leave me feeling overwhelmed…that God would use a random muzungu from some small town no one’s ever heard of in Colorado to be part of something much bigger than her…it astounds me.

I feel like some of my blogs, maybe most of them, are based on small things that happen. Small things, because it’s a tiny thing that God asks of me, something that makes no sense, but because of His timing, it has a bigger impact than I could ever imagine. 

I don’t deserve a thank you for what I did, nor do I want one, so please don’t give it. All I want is for you to take another challenge, one I’m taking with you: To see nothing as coincidence. To listen to what God tells us, and to listen even closer when it doesn’t make sense to us. To obey Him, and let go of our cravings to know, ahead of time, why He’s asked us. 

No matter what country you’re living in, no matter what the situation is…God wants us to reach out to the lost, broken, and hurting. Whether it be in Africa, North America, Europe, anywhere – there are people in need all around us.

I miss you all! I’ll leave you with a few verses out of Psalm 71: