This week I experienced a great honor. Something that doesn’t happen often in a lifetime. I had the privilege of giving a gift. A gift that meant everything to someone.
Now as believers the hunky hubby and I give to various places on a regular basis but as delightful as that can be we mostly write a check and go back to folding laundry and chasing crazed little boys out of the spice cabinet. We don’t often get to meet the recipients of our gifts and when we do it is usually a case of one relatively wealthy American providing financial assistance to another relatively wealthy American, it all gets very ho hum after awhile.
Now I know that our sponsorship means a great deal to Richard, our Compassion child. But I have yet to meet him.
Due to the strange workings of fate…or perhaps God, we had something of value just languishing around our place. Then I met some amazing people, some true raggamuffins, just like Rich Mullins and Brennan Manning. And they were some of the nicest, sanest, kids I’ve ever seen wandering our countries highways. Very strange. Part of me wonders if they were angels. Raggamuffin Angels.
And then we were given the great honor of giving a gift that mattered. That meant everything. A safe place to sleep, the easing of pain, freedom, a way home.
I feel like I’ve met the prodical son in person and taken up a small place in the story. I was walking on air. Because it is not every day that one is honored with the ability to give a truly valuable gift. The thrill of it is intoxicating. I am so very lucky to have lived through this week. Lucky indeed.
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What a privilege! I’d like to know more. Oh, by the way, happy anniversary.
Love to you.