So this postcard came a while ago, but I haven't gotten around to writing about it yet.
The instructions were simple: Cut out the middle of the postcard to make a frame. Hold it up. Snap a picture of a very important person and then give the picture to him or her.
I started with the usual suspects.
I was planning on some grandiose schemes inspire by Kathleen (taking pictures of strangers and letting them know they are important) but this kiddo came over for homework time at our house, and I decided I had found a VIP I hadn't reflected on yet.
Meet my friend; we'll call her B: (I decided against posting her picture since she's not my child).
I had B in 5th grade, one of my favorite kiddos of all time. She was sweet, eager to learn, perceptive (she was the first student to ask if I was going to have a baby when indeed I was).
One of my favorite moments was when I asked another girl in our ESL class what came at the beginning of every sentence and B shouted out, "A Caterpillar!" She was a delight.
Now I have the privilege of seeing B and sometimes her little brother almost every Tuesday. They roll in after school for hot cocoa and help with the crazy stack of homework I hadn't known about from the giving end of the deal. She works hard, helps with Elisa, and the whole time, we learn from each other.
We've had conversations about being sisters and her wanting to be a doctor. Conversations about why Christians give gifts at Christmas time and about arranged marriages. Conversations about wishing our dads didn't have to work so hard and why some kids are mean. When we read a question about who you would honor with a special day if you were president, she said, "Everyone."
She has become part of the fabric of my week.We are Christian and Muslim, mother and teenager, native-born and refugee, and every week, we break "bread" (think Cheeze-its and cookies) around a coffee table and share life.
Most importantly, B has been a bridge to a beautiful, unexpected friendship with her family. I had met B's family during parent-teacher conferences and spoken briefly with her mother at the bus stop.
One day, I was feeling particularly lonely and felt a nudge from God to spend some time with B's mom "S." I felt crazy ridiculous knocking on another woman's door in the middle of the day, but I so very glad I did.
Since that day we've shared super sweet tea and flaky baklava from Jordan. We've talked about loneliness and babies and our parents being far from us. I've watched TV from Morocco and home videos of celebrating a son's engagement and Skyped with family a world away ("Collateral damage" takes on a new light when you see a couch-ful of moon-pale children with beautiful doe-eyes).
Elisa has chewed on their prayer beads, and S has taught me to make flat bread. We shared a dinner at our table and heard stories of their orange farm, their sadness and dismay over Sunni/Shiite violence and family members who get arrested with an entire village without cause.
The other week we were given half their box of food from a church that gives groceries to refugees. We have received more than we have given them and this is so.good.
I have found it easier to be benefactor than be blessed. To save rather than share life. To control rather than admit I need this friendship as much as they need others to come alongside them.
It reminded me of my friend
Bethany's words about incapacity in a recent update from Thailand where she and her family are ministering to people in Bangkok:
"Then it hit us, that in order to bond with people, we needed to be honest about our struggles and depend on them in our vulnerability. But it is hard for Westerners; we much prefer to turn to the anonymity of google, than to swallow our pride and ask a human being that we hardly know for help. In asking, you also have to entrust yourself to them and then receive from them. But in asking our “hardware-store family” about repairs we found them eager to embrace us and love on us. When our bicycle was stolen and we asked neighbors where to get a used bike as a replacement, two different neighbors gave us two great bikes on long-term loan. When we thought we were just “visiting” churches to get to know people, we stumbled upon a strong church family right in our neighborhood who showered us with encouragement, visits and prayers. They actively started caring for our needs. It was humbling to receive, but so good!
Reflecting on these months, we realize that being incarnational is anything but being “with it.” It's about being completely powerless and dependent, kind of like a baby. We found ourselves stripped of any pretenses, and ready instead to receive and be received. (Ok, it is still very uncomfortable!) But along with mortification comes freedom to live in the overflow of God's grace... One day while feeling utterly weak, we read the Beatitudes and received God's reassurance that if we can embrace God in our weakness, then we are right where we should be. “Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.”
It also reminded me what we've been learning about "people of peace" (more about this
here). We've learned that those who are open to hearing about Jesus are often those who want to serve
us in some way, to share life instead of just receive.
We are learning about meekness and humility and culture and welcome, all because of one VIP with cool glasses and a winsome smile. We're deeply grateful for this friendship and pray one day we won't just share around a coffee table but that they will accept the invitation to the supper of the Lamb.
Who are your VIPs? Have you told them lately? They might be in your home but they might just be in your classroom or down your street. Open your home and knock on a door. You might be surprised who you find when you receive and more importantly, allow yourself to be received.
