Whom God chooses

I asked Spirit what to blog about today and she jumped out of my heart and into my mind. I'll call her Jessica, the mother of five children ages 12 and under. I'd known several of the children, who charmed me, before we were introduced.

She's told me her story in bits and dribbles, always over the drone of nearby children, who bounce around the six-room house vying for the attention of the visitor. It's not a pleasant tale, peppered with the love and support of family.

At 15, something tragically unthinkable occurred. When she divulged details, I shivered, mentally wrapping a protective blanket over my 15-year-old, wishing I could have done the same for Jessica. It helps explain why Jessica seems less mature in some areas. In others, she is wise beyond her years. I believe she may have stopped growing emotionally after this incident. Merely an observation, not judgment or criticism.

Jessica is the first to point out her flaws. "I can't help my 6th grader with his math, it's so beyond me," she almost cried when we spoke before Christmas. "You know, I'm not good at that stuff."

It breaks my heart to see her so hard on herself, so I offered, in truth and love: "When my youngest had that math teacher two years ago, she said she was now teaching in 6th grade what high-school seniors used to learn." Her eyes grew wide and she responded: "Really, then maybe I'm not so lame."

She's not – at all. In fact, twice I have heard God speak directly through her to me. She wasn't even aware. The first time was several years ago when she lamented they had no computer and she knew her oldest would soon need one for school. She wasn't asking, hinting or implying that someone get one or even that I should. We'd just met, really.

But the message stayed with me for a few months. Until I blurted it out in Quaker worship because I had to get it off my chest. Though I wasn't even asking for money, one kind soul made a donation and they passed the collection plate, which my Meeting (church) doesn't ordinarily do. They, too, were moved by Jessica's story. Between my generous faith community and neighbors, we were able to purchase a desktop computer, printer, ink and year of Internet. Thanks to the local Obama headquarters, who donated leftover office supplies to Artsy Fartsy, the family also got a big box of paper.

I hadn't said a word about the computer until everything was organized and ready to go. Jessica latched on and hugged me repeatedly, saying I was her angel. "You really heard me." she said. "Not me, but that of God," I answered. We unknowingly made the delivery on her middle son's birthday, which stoked the celebration. God was certainly in charge

Jessica has also battled leukemia for 18 years and takes a number of medications, which have robbed her memory. She blames chemo for one son's struggles. In my Artsy Fartsy program, I have found him cooperative, creative and adorable. Being singled out and separated from siblings could have that affect.

Before Christmas, I had stopped by with a small gift just for Jessica. Often, she is overlooked as the children are more obvious recipients of help. You would have thought I had bought her a new house rather than scarf, bag and necklace, which, by the way, perfectly matched her outfit. She led me to her room and the sack of goodies she had just purchased from the Dollar Tree. "That's all I can do this year," she said as if merely thinking it out loud, not expecting any response or action.

One of my husband's generous siblings had asked my girls to select a charity and buy toys with his check. Well, as teens, they had procrastinated. Perhaps, though, this was Spirit's movement. We quickly texted to ask if their uncle would mind supporting an entire family instead. Without hesitation, he said yes! The girls went to work creating a list and plotting the next day's shopping expedition.

One of them and I decided to pay Jessica a visit to make sure this was okay and get some ideas. Just as we were walking out the back door, the front door-bell rang. One of her boys was bringing me a Christmas present. The mother with few resources had insisted on lavishing me with gifts. It's, probably, the most meaningful present I have ever received (okay, besides from my children). I quickly opened it, then we were on our way. I thanked her (a little too quickly, I now understand. I should have savored receiving and let her bask in the feeling of giving) and Jessica mentioned to be sure to notice the name of the fragrance. It was labeled "Token of love." I sprayed it on the other night, feeling very bathed in love and the light, springy scent.

There's more to tell ... in another post. I like ending on the idea of love and light, because that's what this friendship has brought me.

• When has an unexpected friendship brought deep resonance?
• Is my heart aimed at helping people locally or globally? (no wrong answers, here!)
• When have I heard God speak through another?
• How did I respond?
• If giving is easier than receiving for me, what might I be depriving another giver of in not receiving?


the first time I met her,
she hugged me

I think because
I listened

something I'm good at
and something rare for
the mother of five

when I have been able
to listen deeply enough,
I am honored to hear
God speak through her

a wounded, marginalized
woman who thinks she's
good at nothing

that's whom God chooses

Listen to this post:

Spirit moving

Listen to this post:

I was wired in Meeting for Worship Sunday from the wonderfully wild drumming of the day before with my Artsy Fartsy kids. I tried to settle in, but it just wasn't happening. I was fully attentive to the minister's message on giving. She and I had had a conversation a few days earlier on the subject. I mentioned I was tired of an idea I had that kept meeting with conditions and restrictions. So I decided to sit with it awhile. My choice. 

I couldn't handle it Sunday, especially after her message. I fought it, pushed it out of my head and heart. Re-focused, yet it kept returning, making my heart churn faster and faster. In the Quaker tradition that usually means you have a vocal message you're meant to share in worship. So, up I stood. Struggling, even telling other worshippers I didn't want to do this.

I talked about Dorrian's family of seven. Mom, dad and five kids ages four to 6th grade. They live in a teeny house between a church and my best friend, just down the block from me. The kids are always outside playing ... no room inside, it seems. Lately, I've been seeing Dorrian and his younger brother on bikes all over the neighborhood probably getting off on their own. Often dad's with the younger ones. He's the caregiver.

I'd never seen mom until last Thursday, when I made a personal visit to ensure Dorrian got to Artsy Fartsy Saturday. There was a mix up last month and he'd forgotten. Mom opened the door and warmly welcomed me inside. She hugged me and thanked me for taking an interest in her oldest. "He forgot and went off to play last month," she confessed. "When he got back, he cried because he'd missed it. You know he has such beautiful writing, this will be so good for him. So does my son Dalton." Dalton pretends to be mad at me when I see him with Dorrian. It's because he's too young for Artsy Fartsy and keeps trying to charm his way in. I tell him he has to wait, but each smile he flashes chips away at my resolve.

Then mom pointed to another son, playing games and confided that he's on an IEP (individualized-education plan) at school for learning disabilities. She's battled leukemia for 13 years and through all the pregnancies. The only one she struggled with was his. I think she blames the chemo. She whispered so as not to get his attention. Then she looked me square in the eye, though her tone was conversational and casual, and said "we really need a computer. It would make such a difference for him."

I immediately recognized this as God speaking to me through this woman. Getting this family a computer has been on my heart two years. It gained momentum when I reconnected through Dorrian, a great kid with loads of potential.

I'd recommended this family to my Quaker Meeting as needing financial help this Christmas, though I really wanted to get them a computer. Over the years, when I have vocalized this concern, I am often kindly reminded that refurbished or used computers are easy to find.

My hearts silently screams: "But why can't they have new, like everybody else? Why does this family with very little and only what the mother's assistance check can supply, have to get castoffs?

All weekend, I plotted in my head what I wanted for them: a new iMac, two years of internet (because, frankly, what's the use of a computer these days without it?), printer, cache of ink and technical assistance. About three grand, I figured. 

I didn't share my financial noodling with my Meeting when I spoke. I wasn't asking for anything, just releasing what had a tight grip on me and requesting prayer. Unlike anything I have ever experienced in Quaker worship before, someone tossed cash in the collection plate and it made the rounds, landing at me. I could barely bring myself to touch the wooden bowl overflowing with money ... let alone count it. Someone else did and, in a matter of minutes, about 20-some people donated $500. Noting short of amazing.

Yesterday, a neighbor brought me a $100 Best Buy gift card. There's a printer, I thought.

Just as I wanted others to release their idea of used goods for this family, I am releasing mine of the perfect scenario. I have a feeling I will know when the collecting is finished (I'm not putting a Christmas deadline on it) and am confident there will be enough to purchase whatever this family is supposed to have.

Spirit is moving and I best get myself out of the way!

• When has Spirit pushed me to speak or act?
• What happened when I resisted?
• When I surrendered?
• How was the result better than I ever could have imagined?
• What have I learned as a result?