It hits me every time.
When I walk into the kitchen and see her scraping the peanut butter container clean.
She cannot see any food go to waste.
Even the peanut butter film on the inside of the jar I tried to scrape clean.
Even the half-eaten toddler snacks are added to her plate.
It’s seen in his asking.
That pot of jet black rice fuming on the back porch.
A mistake waiting to be cool enough for the trash.
“Don’t throw it out. I’ll eat it.”
And he did.
I don’t even know how he got it down.
Food security looks different in different places.
For some it’s the “no waste” moto.
And then for some it’s digging in the trash.
It affects us too, but in different ways.
It looks like sacking the stale bread in a plastic bag to deshard it in the trash
Because we know that someone will find it and eat it.
And I just can’t bear the thought of it being mixed with coffee grounds.
Even the most lowly is a delight to Our Father.
It looks like intentionally having leftovers to share.
And having a bag of coins in our car for the next beggar to knock at the window
with a blind grandparent holding onto their shoulder.
Some beggars are adults,
but many are children trying to provide for a sick or lame grandparent.
Such heavy weights all around us.
So much to pray for.
So much to honor Jesus in.
… So much to wrestle with.
And yet I am also so thankful for the privilege
Of wrestling with how and when to help.
Because in our heads and in our lives
It’s all His anyway.
Lord, please help us to live Luke 12:48 well
in the middle of it all.