This morning I was sent.
Sent by my husband to pay bills.
I left the house with a plan.
First to the power company, then to the cell phone office, then to the
water company, and then to the post office.
All four offices with-in a rectangular radius of two blocks from one
another. The furthest being no more than
five blocks from my house. So I figured
I could get all these errands done in an hour or less traveling by foot.
When I arrived at the power office, I walked in, went
straight up to the counter and paid the bill.
All within a matter of ten minutes after leaving the house. As I stepped out of the power office and
glanced down the street toward the water office, I saw a long line out
front. I thought I’d walk by and check
it out, and determine whether or not I had time to wait.
As I crossed the street, I bumped into one of the ladies
from the church we attend. We greeted
with a hug and how are yous. Of course,
she wanted to know what I was out doing.
(I love that the ladies of the church feel responsible for my safety and
whereabouts!) I told her I was paying
bills. She told me she was doing the
same. And that she had just left the
water company where she had waited in line for an hour. Oh my!
We said our good-byes and God bless yous and went on our separate ways.
As I walked passed the water office and got a closer look at
the line, I decided to travel to the cell phone office first with hopes that
the water line would be shorter upon my return.
I said hello to a girl from church who was waiting patiently for her mom
who was waiting in line to pay her bill.
At the phone office I walked right in, straight to the
counter, and paid my bill in a matter of a few minutes. As I stepped out of the cell phone office, I
decided to cross through the park and visit a friend who owns the ice cream
store and buy some water from her to make my wait at the water office a little
more pleasant.
In the ice cream
store, I chatted with my friend for a few minutes talking about our need for
more exercise and the battle we face with getting up early to walk at the
stadium or staying out late for the community running group on Tuesdays and
Fridays. We gave each other
encouragement to keep pressing forward and she complimented me on how my
Spanish is continuing to improve. We
exchanged our good-byes and take cares and I was ready to face the long line at
the water company.
This time, the line looked to be the same distance. I thought about returning a different day,
but ultimately decided it would be nice to stand in line for a few minutes to
let my mind wander a little.
Fortunately, I was prepared with my cold bottle of water and
my umbrella that I keep in my purse. I
never know when I will need it. This
time of year, it’s not for the rain, but to block the hot, scorching sun.
The line seemed to move at a steady pace. But when I reached a spot where I could see
the door, I noticed that there were some people who walked up, walked right
past the line and somehow made it inside.
The more people I saw do this, the more frustrated I became.
I started to notice that they were all older people. Grandparent material. Some were great-great-grandparent
material.
Finally I reached the door, but an old man edged his way in
front of me. Who did he think he
was? I tried to block him, but he was
persistent and got in front of me anyway.
As I made it into the five-times-as-long line inside, I saw
that the man who pushed past me went straight up to the counter, by-passing the
line all together. I just shook my head
and figured it’s just one of those things I have to let go.
As I waited and waited and waited in the line, I noticed
this happening again and again. Older
people were being ushered in past the line all together and delivered straight
to the counter by the security guards. No
one in the line seemed aggravated by this.
I finally realized that this was their system of hospitality.
Each of these people that were ushered past the line were
considerably old. Like 80s or 90s. (I know, that’s still young for many
people.) But when I started thinking
about the distance these people may have walked to come into the water office,
I didn’t want them to have to stand in the hot sun either. They looked incredibly frail. All with very weathered, dark, leathery skin
that represented the many years of hard physical labor they had put in caring
for their families, just managing to scrape by.
As I had time to stand by and watch the hospitality of the
security guards, I began to appreciate their kindness towards and respect for
these elderly people. And I also had
time to appreciate that they were still out and about taking care of business,
despite their obvious sum of years.
I realized that it was God who nudged me to take the time to
wait in the line this morning. Not
because I didn’t have other things to take care of, but because He had a lesson
for me there.
You see, I believe that being sent has a lot less to do with
the abilities I have as it does with the lessons God has for me to learn. He has sent me out to serve Him, not because
He thinks I already know everything I need to know to get the job done. Not because He thinks I am already equipped
with all the tools I need to accomplish the work He has for me. But because He knows that it is in the
willingness to go and be open to the lessons that He can teach me, empower me,
and equip me to do the work that He has for me.
I have been sent to live with a people that once seemed
foreign to me. To learn from them. To build relationships with them. And to do Kingdom work with them. So that “them” gradually becomes “we.” Not because of anything I have done or will
do, but because of EVERYTHING He HAS done and WILL do!
The whole act of being sent starts with a simple willingness
to go. To be open to the unknown that
lies ahead. The curves and stops along
the way are often the most beautiful parts.
And the unexpected and at times mundane “long-line experiences” are
often the tools God gives us to equip us for His work.
Once I finally arrived back home (two hours after leaving) I
realized that I had accomplished what I had set out to do – which was to pay
the bills my husband sent me to pay. I
also realized that wasn’t the real reason I was sent. I was sent out this morning to greet and hug
a sweet sister in Christ on the street.
I was sent out this morning to catch up with a friend in the ice cream
shop. And I was sent out this morning to
see the beauty of Salvadoran culture and the way respect for elders is lived
out…not just talked about. I returned
home different than I left. Tired and
hot from the journey, but full and renewed from the lessons.
I pray that God continues to keep me open to His unexpected
teachings along this journey. And that I
don’t rush through things, while missing out on the lessons that await me in
the long-line moments.
