day twenty-seven: scraps

This morning we received a little culinary care ourselves. Grammy scrounged up the “scraps” in her kitchen to make us breakfast before we headed off for today’s activity. But her “scraps”—ham, sausage, eggs, toast, muffins, jellies, and preserves—filled us full…too full. I would have personally raised the stock value of Pepto Bismol if her fridge had been properly stocked.

This is what was left of her "scraps" after we ate

We sluggishly left and headed to Publix to grab snacks for students at Alexander Elementary School, a project suggested by our friend, Mary Beth, who's an internal auditor for schools in the county.

Alexander Elementary has one of the poorest student bodies of any elementary school in the state. I say, “one of” because 100% of Alexander’s students get free or reduced lunch (the standard measure of poverty in schools), and there are two other schools in SC that also have 100%. So it’s really the poorest, it’s just tied for first…or actually, for last. The schools' social worker, Ms. Gilliland, often sends food home with certain students on Fridays because if she doesn’t, they might not eat again until Monday. The meals they get at school are most (if not all) of the meals they ever eat.

We picked up chocolate pudding, granola bars, and applesauce at the grocery store and put them in bags with a nice note for the students.

Our assembly line in the back of the car

For some of these children, their food for the weekend will be the contents of this little brown bag…scraps, really. Meanwhile, we are constantly overindulged with more than we need. Just what Grammy could scrounge up in her kitchen was more than enough for a meal for four (and we were going to throw out the extra!). But we didn’t even give the students a meal. They got snacks...not much more than scraps.

Jesus was once confronted by an immigrant woman who asked Jesus to help her daughter. He basically said, "Get in line. There's a lot of people to help. The children get fed first, then the dogs, if there's any left over." Undeterred, she responded, "Yes...of course. But don't even dogs under the table get the scraps?" (Mk 7:24-30)

Yes. But for the children at Alexander (many of whose families are immigrants), scraps may be all they get. 

I want to be able to do more. I wish I could offer something greater. But, if I'm being honest with myself, I probably won't. It's not that I don't want to, but even when I am being intentional, even during these 40 days, all I ever seem to be able to offer are the leftovers of my time and energy and willingness to help. It's just a little bit here and there...just scraps.

I pray that as we work in God's kingdom, just as when we cook in Grammy's kitchen, even the scraps of good we do can become a feast for all of God's children. Dogs, too.

*There are lots of needs at Alexander and other schools in the area. Email Ms. Gilliland if you want to find out how you can help. 

day nineteen: country

Suzy's Grammy is "country as sin," as Suzy likes to say (although I don't know why sin would be associated with rural areas). And like most country folk, she's a different breed. Here's a little excerpt from Suzy's blog about the first time I met her Grammy:

     When I first took Greg to meet my Grammy, I walked into my grandparent’s home with Greg following behind me.  Grammy was on the back porch so I bee-lined to open the door for her to meet my sweet, new man.  Before I could tell her that I brought someone for her to meet, she blessed me with the funniest moment of my life.  Not noticing Greg, she started into“Hey Suzy….did you hear about my friend?  She has shingles all the way down her butt crack and straight up into her a-gina.”Yes, you read that right.  She calls a vagina an “A-gina”She also calls a penis a “Wobjanger,” but that’s a whole other story.     I awkwardly introduced Greg to her after he turned a shade of red saved only for these kind of moments.  I thought she would play it off, but oh no.  She then launched into“Hey Greg, glad you’re here…. Did you hear about my friend??”
She is one-of-a-kind.

Grammy with her great-grandson

As a child, Grammy only had shoes in the winter, and even those were made of canvas sewn together. The house she lived in growing up didn't have a true floor, just boards with gaps so wide that if you dropped a pencil, coin, etc., it was gone.

Grammy also volunteered for years at the North Greenville Food Crisis Ministry, where we donated food today. Suzy would go up there and help out when she wasn't in school or teaching, and then they'd always get hot dogs at the restaurant next door.

But Grammy has retired from volunteering and the restaurant has closed.

What hasn't changed, however, are the needs of the people who come to the NGFCM for assistance. Most of them have a deeply ingrained work ethic and hold blue-collar or labor intensive jobs, but can't make enough to meet their basic needs (even working for minimum wage...imagine that!). They've been hit harder than most in a bad economy. They are country folk, just like Grammy.

But she hasn't forgotten her roots. Having grown up in poverty, she grew to serve those still firmly in it's grip. She's modeled that kind of service for her granddaughter and great-grandson, and even for her grandson-in-law. Grammy has known God's blessings in her life - in her need and in her giving - even if she is "country as sin."

A sign on the door of the ministry
"May all who enter our doors know God's blessing, either in receiving during their time of need or give to those in crisis."

day six: icing on the cake

Lemon cake with icing, Grammy's recipe.
Sweet.

We made it for the senior adults at our church, the XYZ group (for Extra Years of Zest...also because it is at the end of the alphabet), and took it to their monthly meeting today. They loved it. I was in a staff meeting and running about five minutes late, but by the time I arrived, the cake was already gone. Suzy (who had arrived on time) told me that they even made a special announcement about her bringing it to the meeting. They thanked us profusely and raved about how delicious the cake was. They were so thankful and so sweet.

But even sweeter? When one of the ladies carried our baby boy around to every single person. At each table someone pinched his cheeks, rubbed his head, played with his toes... They all treated him like he was one of theirs. He was in a room with 50 grandparents: some eccentric, some a little senile, some overbearing, but all of them sweet.

Some of the XYZ group. On the left edge of the picture you can see the lady carrying around our boy.

The food was good. The thanks and compliments were nice. But the icing on the cake was realizing how much these people care about us and our baby.

We began this Lenten season thinking that we would be the ones showing love, care, and grace to others. We experienced it for ourselves from these senior adults.

Sweet.