Enough

My husband is home from work well after dark; it has been a long day for both of us. I should have gone to the store and made dinner, but I didn’t. Thankfully, he doesn’t care about that stuff—he’s cool and easy like that. Anyway, it’s getting late and I’m hungry, so I walk into the kitchen, browse the cupboards, and look around—there’s nothing good in there. I open the refrigerator, it’s pretty empty. I grab a pickle to munch on and then go back to the cupboards one more time, open the fridge again. Oddly, nothing has changed—still no food. I eat another pickle, take a sparkling water, walk back into the living room and plop down on the couch. My husband asks me what there is to eat—I tell him I just ate a few pickles because we’re out of food. I offer to go get him one and he declines. We both laugh and decide one of us better get to the store soon!

The next morning, I head out for a jog—it’s a beautiful day to be outside and I’m feeling good. I get my workout done and walk towards home with my earbuds in and worship music blasting, oblivious to anything going on around me. I hear “KATHRYN!!!” loud enough to stop me. I look back and see my daughter-in-law, Jessica, and her sister, Kim, waving and smiling. They’re out for a jog with both their little boys in strollers. Happy to see them, I walk over, and we chat for a few minutes and then Jess asks if my husband has any extra shorts at home. I tell her yes, wondering what she needs them for. She turns and looks behind her towards the grocery store, and I follow her gaze. I seem him. A tall, thin man with matted hair and his shorts sagging so low that his backside is fully exposed. He’s obviously homeless and in need. A few minutes prior he had approached Jess and Kim asking for money. Jess tells me he can’t keep his shorts up because they’re too big for him and she is hoping I can help. In my head I’m already scanning my husband’s closet for clothes. I say goodbye to the girls and jog home, stopping briefly to contemplate if I should go back and tell the guy to hang out for a few minutes so I have time to gather some clothes for him. Since I live just around the corner, I decide against it and get home as quick as I can.

I rummage through my husband’s closet and find what I’m looking for, make a quick phone call to see if he can spare the clothes I pulled out—he tells me he’s happy to donate them. I pack a bag with two pair of socks, two long-sleeved shirts, and jogging pants that have a draw string so they can be tightened up to fit. As I’m about to leave the house, I decide I should bring the gentleman some food and water, too. I grab three bottled waters and look around the kitchen, seeing it through a different lens now—it suddenly seems full of options. I make a honey and peanut butter sandwich with the two heels left of the bread. I find a banana and three power bars and toss them in the bag. There’s an apple rolling around in the crisper drawer and a handful of grapes—I wash them and put them in a baggie to keep them fresh. I find a pack of saltine crackers to include and quickly go to my writing office and pull a devotional off my bookshelf and place it in the bag. I scan what I’ve gathered and I’m happy with it.

I jump in my jeep to go look for him and tears come out of nowhere. I realize I’ve never been hungry without access to food. My closet is full of clothes that fit me. I’ve always had a safe place to call home and a warm bed to sleep in. I’ve never felt lonely in my entire life. I think about how, just last night, I was saying that we had no food in our house, and yet, I managed to fill a bag full for someone in need. When I glanced at him earlier, I could see his hip bones protruding and it leads me to believe he’s been hungry for a while. My tears flow as I drive around looking for this stranger that I suddenly feel desperate to find. I want to ease his suffering, even if just for today.

My emotions get the best of me. I cry for all that are hungry, sick, and broken, roaming the streets without a home. I cry as I think about this man’s story— is it addiction or mental illness that brought him to the streets? How did he end up here? Does he have a family? Is anyone worried about him? I cry because even though money was a struggle for much of my life, I never went without and neither did my children. We always had enough. And I cry thinking about last night when I went looking for food in our kitchen and passed because I didn’t want to eat the heel of the bread, bananas that are too ripe for my liking, or the power bars we’ve had for weeks.

Enough is a feast. We mustn’t ever forget it.

Please know that I am not looking for props for trying to help someone out. God knows it’s the least any of us can do. It’s just that what happened today has made me realize something… it’s not so much that I’m upset about seeing this man who needs help, it’s all the times that I don’t see others. How often do I drive by and not notice people in need? How many times do I pass by, so caught up in my own comfortable little world, that I don’t pay attention? I’m sure I do it a lot and that feels especially ugly to me right now. I need to care. I need to notice. I don’t know exactly what that looks like for me, but I’m glad that my heart was stirred to tears today. It should be. I must do better. I need to serve. If each of us helped others just a little bit more, we could make an enormous difference.

I never did find him, but I’m keeping the bag of clothes in my car, just in case.

When I finally did go to the store today, I picked up some cleaning supplies for the house and some non-perishable food to keep in my car in case I see him again, or for the next time I see someone that is in need. But I didn’t buy any food for us and I’m not sure why that is. I just couldn’t do it today. I think I might eat the peanut butter and honey sandwich for dinner—the one I made with the heels of the bread. Maybe I’ll eat the over ripe banana, too.

Enough is a feast.

Matthew 25:35-40 “For I was hungry, and you fed me. I was thirsty, and you gave me a drink. I was a stranger, and you invited me into your home. I was naked, and you gave me clothing. I was sick, and you cared for me. I was in prison, and you visited me.

Then the righteous ones will reply, “Lord, when did we ever see you hungry and feed you? Or thirsty and give you something to drink? Or a stranger and show you hospitality? Or naked and give you clothing? When did we ever see you sick or in prison and visit you?”

And the King will say “I tell you the truth, when you did it to one of the least of these my brothers and sisters, you were doing it to me!”

James 2:14-17

Faith without Good Deeds is Dead. What good is it, dear brothers and sisters, if you say you have faith but don’t show it by your actions? Can that kind of faith save anyone? Suppose you see a brother or sister who had no food or clothing, and you say, “Good-bye and have a good day; stay warm and eat well” – but then you don’t give that person any food or clothing. What good does that do? So you see, faith by itself isn’t enough. Unless it produces good deeds, it is dead and useless.