You wouldn't think that a 10 minute drive could land you in another world, but it does. It happened last night. We got in the car and when we stepped out, we were there. A place where people don't know where the next meal is coming from. Where the wallet has eight crinkled dollar bills that need to last to the end of the month. Where it is hard to trust God cares because no one has ever been trustworthy. Where hope can look like a sack of potatoes or a jar of peanut butter being shared.
I went to Renee's house last night. The world would look at our encounter and say that she was the one who was blessed because of our visit. But I can tell you that is completely untrue. We stood on her porch, arms weighed down with bags of groceries and called out that we were from the church. She slowly made her way to the door, untangling her oxygen line as she went. Once she realized what was going on, she began to cry and so did I. I was overwhelmed by the goodness of our God who sees. He saw that Renee had cooked the last of the food in the fridge for her son. God saw that there wasn't enough money to get through the month. He saw her shoulders stooped low from the weight of worry. He sees her sick heart and failing body. He sees her downcast spirit. But He also sees a heart that loves Him and trusts Him and gives Him all the glory. He heard all three of us praising Him together; for His perfect care and perfect timing. That He allows me to be the tiniest piece of His puzzle in her life...reminding all of us of His care and love in everything.
As Cale and I walked back across the front of her house, her voice could be heard, raised in praise to the God who sees. Renee helped me to see Him more clearly. Sure, we gave her a few bags of food, but what we walked out of there with was far, far greater.
Don't be fooled. Hope really does look like a sack of potatoes.