Why not share a bit of your food, friend?
Make some for yourself, too, God seemed to whisper to me that day several years ago. God had been nudging me to make fleece pants with my kids and their friends. Now, He seemed to be nudging to make fleece pants for me, too.
So, I was online ordering fleece fabric.
A particular type of fabric stood out to me, as joy bubbled from within. I bought the fabric with golden retrievers stamped all over it (True story, but why would I lie about that?). I made my pants.
And now, I will convey something challenging to articulate.
Join people in over fifty countries who read this to gain valuable life wisdom! (Or maybe they’re just laughing at me? . . . Whatever!)
Shockingly, these doggy fleece pants are like a key opening a door between another culture and me.
People who would never even bother looking down their nose at me suddenly become my best friends. I am accepted by a whole new world of people when I wear these pants. These pants melt their hearts, and they pour their love on me, after asking me where they, too, can buy the same pants.
Note: I say this HUMBLY, but in THIS article, I deferentially mention the name brands of the clothes I am wearing, because I am THAT kind of a person. Just saying. Read more HERE.
But a couple of stories to illustrate the surprising allure of these doggy pants: Once, someone exclaimed jubilantly that she loved my pants and then recounted a surprising amount of her life story as I stood, listening, stunned and speechless, my to-go coffee cup waiting in my hand, mid-air, for her to finish. This kind of thing happens often.
It happened today.
The teenage guy working at Tim Hortons spent five minutes before taking my order telling me he loved my pants, telling me a story about his dog, and then speaking with the lady next to him about whether she liked dogs or cats better.
I listened mutely and smiled.
When I finally pulled away from him to sit at a table to drink my coffee, I noticed the table was covered with crumbs. I returned to that young man to quickly ask for a napkin to clean it. He leaned in to confide that they are understaffed, “But I will clean the table for you.” Stunned, I watched him wipe my table.
Then he said, “People really surprise me sometimes.”
“How do you mean?” I asked.
He was quiet.
I offered, pointing to the messy table, “You mean how people are always making messes?”
He nodded.
He seemed to need a crumb to eat, as he lingered a bit longer at my table. I wondered what I could say in the several seconds left of our interaction that could feed him just a little. “Well, it’s a good thing that God forgives us after we create our messes.”
I looked innocently away, waiting for the metaphor to nourish his soul.
The crumb nourished him, and his hunger pangs made him sputter forcefully, “I can’t believe people don’t know I’m a Christian! I don’t even smoke!” He then felt the need for some reason to confess to speaking a partial truth to me, a perfect stranger, by quickly adding, “Well, I do smoke weed.”
My brain was overheating. “Did he say that smoking weed made him a Christian?” I wondered.
Or that smoking cigarettes made a person not a Christian? It’s hard to keep all that theology straight – I can empathize!
“And so, where do we go from here, God?” I prayed. What do I say in the twelve nanoseconds before he departs to resume his job? Clearly, he was being nourished, somehow, by the crumbs of this measly conversation.
But Jesus said, “There is no need to dismiss them. You give them supper.”
“All we have are five loaves of bread and two fish,” they said.
Jesus said, “Bring them here.” . . . They all ate their fill.
“Well, if we can truly understand that God loves us after we mess up our tables, that’s the important part, right?” I offered him, like a crumb. Would he take and eat?
He stared at me, fumbled, and then dropped his cleaning cloth.
His hat fell off as he bent over to pick up the fabric. He stared at me a moment before picking that up, too. He was deep in thought.
Eye contact one more time before he walked away.
Was there a glimpse of light lit for a moment, so that Your light broke through this ordinary day for a clerk at Tim Hortons, God?
May this generation find messy tables wherever they go, we pray.
And may the crumbs somehow, by your grace, be multiplied to nourish the soul. There is more, there is more, there is more, He is saying to the teenage boy working at Tim Hortons. There is more to this story, too. I’ll continue it another time.
For now, how can our lives spiritually feed others?
- We get thirsty.
Jesus said, “. . . Anyone who drinks the water I give will never thirst—not ever.”
- We learn how to listen.
My sheep recognize my voice. I know them, and they follow me.
- We trust Him to lead us, come what may.
In the same way that a branch can’t bear grapes by itself but only by being joined to the vine, you can’t bear fruit unless you are joined with me.
That’s it.
(And may you, your doggy and your doggy pants1 (of course!) bring some love and crumbs to nourish a spiritually hungry world, too, friend.)
Thanks for liking me! I like you too! – Proven HERE, HERE, and HERE! Let’s journey together!
Photo Credit – 3 Methods / 3 Ostriches by Jutta Kamp on Unsplash and Me-and-My -Doggy-and-My-Doggy-Pants (Of Course!)
1 Or however He leads you in your culture.
Restoring Life 