The gift of giving.

Monk Parakeet (we think) - Irving, Texas

Yesterday, I talked Jon into taking me to Starbucks before our birding adventure. He was blessed with a day off and we planned to spend our free morning together exploring a nearby park. We hoped we could enjoy some bird observation but our main goal was to simply enjoy nature, ensconced as we are in our pavement neighborhood . The Texas air was surprisingly chilly and after a few moments in the gusting sixty-something-degree weather, we were both excited about the prospect of a warm drink. 

As we hurried into Starbucks, I noticed an older man a little down the sidewalk. He was standing next to a garbage can and intently examining a piece of paper. I wondered if he was homeless but quickly forgot about him as Jon and I embraced the warmth of the coffee shop. 

We spent a considerable time choosing our drinks and deciding on what treats should accompany them. We finally settled on breakfast sandwiches and as an afterthought, added muffins. I chose a blueberry muffin and nodded emphatically when asked if I wanted it heated up. 

We braced ourselves for the wind and beelined for Jon's Subaru. I happened to glance to my side and noticed that the old man, as if frozen in time, remained in the exact same position as before. My heart caught. "Jon," I called over the wind. "Would you be okay if I gave him one of my muffins?" Jon looked around and shouted back, "What?" But even before I explained, he saw the man and coming closer, said, "Of course, Chelsea. Give him whatever you think."

I approached the old man and he stepped back defensively. Jon, not wanting to alarm him more stayed a few more feet away. At handshake distance, the man looked younger. He looked down at his paper and asked me if I knew anything about Direct TV and how to get the $150 they were offering. I was confused. Maybe he wasn't homeless. 

Embarrassed, I told him I didn't know anything about Direct TV but I had an extra muffin and wondered if perhaps he would like it. He made eye contact with me at this point and reached for the proffered treat bag. "Well, it is probably for the best you don't know anything about this Direct TV." He told me genuinely. I smiled. "I hope God surprises you with all kinds of blessings today, sir. " I actually surprised myself saying it. He looked at me again and said, "He always does."

Before Jon and I were even buckled into the Subaru, we watched the man hungrily bite into the warm muffin. I was glad I had asked for it to be heated.

We prayed for him as we drove away. And somehow, giving that muffin away, to stranger in need, tasted better than I knew the muffin ever could have. 

Giving can feel vulnerable. What if my gift is not received? What if I regret giving something I value away?

Jon and I were in birder heaven at the park. We saw more birds than we could even begin to identify. But I can not help consider the God who fashioned them. He created unique feather after unique feather and because He delights in His creation, He notices them. God notices the birds.

Great Blue Heron - Irving, Texas

Matthew 10:29 "Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father."

Jesus reminds us in scripture that God cares even for the lowliest bird He has made. And if the one who breathed life into the dust of Adam cares about something so little, we can be confident that He notices us... with so much love. 

And He gave us the ultimate gift. Himself.

Why does giving feel so good? When I give what was never mine to begin with, something is released inside of me. It is as if I have let go of an invisible string that was holding me back. My soul feels lighter and happier. I was noticed by God and it feels so wonderful to share that gift, even if in a very small way, with someone else. 

I have a lot to learn about giving. I would not want to pat myself on the back for my 'good deed' and retreat back into what is comfortable. No. I want to keep noticing. 

Jon prayed out loud before we fell asleep last night. He prayed for the muffin man and BJ (another homeless man that we encountered that same day). But mostly, Jon prayed for our hearts. That God would help us have courage to meet people where they are at and even be willing to stay there with them. Because, that is what God does with us. 

What would I do for a cup of coffee?

I looked at my phone and registered 10:55. A few morning birds were still warbling and I paused to enjoy the sound as the sun warmed my face. The cool wind was refreshing after a September full of hot Texas daybreaks.

My leather Ecuadorian purse hung lightly at my waist. I practically emptied it but for my cards and chapstick. I was learning. I calculated a 15 minute brisk walk ahead of me one way.

Jon is teaching me (refreshing me) on how to drive his standard car but while I don't have a job he is taking it in to work. We think we will only be in this area a few more weeks with his current project and so job searching has been temporarily put on hold for me. As much as I like to be busy, I am not complaining. The past month and a half have been a restful balm to my soul. I needed to remember how to rest and enjoy little things like morning birds.

I usually make a perfect Americano in our little hotel home using my new Aeropress but I decided to adventure out today for a familiar cup of Starbucks coffee. Besides, we were given a Starbucks gift card for our wedding (but we both knew it was really for me). There is a Starbucks within walking distance and I thought it would be fun to enjoy a cup of coffee and a nice walk. I love walking.

There is a large church next to us with a parking lot encased in a tall wall. There is a convenient two person sized whole punched through the cement wall. It connects a large neighborhood to the mall and sprawl of shops Jon and I are situated next to. It is the only direct rout. One would have to walk some distance in either direction to get through, we know because we tried once on an evening walk.

I have speculated on who might have pulled down the cement bricks in that portion of the wall. And not just pulled them down, they are completely gone. And strangely, a feeling of victory and comaraderie with everyone who must walk to get to their destination wells up in me.

As I carefully climb through the hole and dodge all of the trash that have made their home there, I consider which route to take. My choices are a main road or a neighborhood. My handy phone GPS tells me that the main road is faster. But 5 minutes of walking tells there is also no sidewalk. I backtrack to the neighborhood.

The neighborhood is full of stories and contrast. Nestled into the city of Irving next to the fortress that is DFW airfield, the old neighborhood feels friendly and spooky, depending on the drive-way I am passing. A few homes look condemned and many seem in competition for the most shapely shrub. There are others, like me, out walking. Dogs bark and a black and white cat observes me. Three men outside a home, smoking, say hello. I nod politely and walk a little faster. The continuous traffic of people wraps me in a safety net but I am still cautious and careful.

My pace is steadily growing and with it the Texas sun begins to reach me in waves in between the tree cover. I finally make it to McDonalds where I veer right right. I decide to cut through a large parking lot towards the looming Starbucks sign.

All I can think about is water. I wipe moisture from my forehead and chuckle at myself. I walked all this way (15 minutes had melted into almost 30) only to crave WATER! I didn't even care what kind of coffee I had. Although, I knew I would have to buy coffee in order to ask for water.

I stared in shock at the hand written sign on the door, "Sorry for the inconvenience - temporarily closed due to power outage." I groaned and stared across the hot parking lot. Only one way to go, back.

I scanned the shops as I trudged. My mostly empty purse was beginning to weigh on my shoulder. I licked me lips and tried not to think about how delicious a cup of water would taste at that moment. I came to a donut shop and walked through the blessedly open door. Their coffee pot looked bleak but they also sold energy drinks. I bought three donuts (two for Jon) and a Power-aid. I drank the entire bottle before I reached the neighborhood.

I tiredly climbed through the hole in the wall and had a weird temptation to discard my empty bottle with the rest of the garbage nestled in the hole. Instead, I tossed the plastic into the trashcan outside of our hotel entrance.

I sat down on the couch in our little home. I looked at my phone and registered 12:10. I smiled wryly to myself. I spent over an hour to buy a bottle of Power-aid for $1.89. I sighed and poured myself a large, very large, cup of water. I would make coffee for myself later.

But the trip was not a waste. It was a valuable and living parable to me. Coffee is a luxury and walking is more than recreation. Too so many of the people around me in this little area, my 'adventure' is their daily experience. And a few of them, could not have afforded the Power-aid, not to mention the donuts.

There is a steady stream of people passing our window as they make their way through the hole in the wall. Most wear back-packs and I now see the practicality in that decision.

There is a well used phrase but I ponder its' relevance now. "Don't judge a man until you have walked a mile in his shoes."

I especially like this echo from a book that impacted me in my high school days,

“You never really know a man until you understand things from his point of view, until you climb into his skin and walk around in it.”
Lee, Harper. To Kill a Mockingbird. J.B. Lippincott & Co., 1960

As I sit here thinking and typing by an open window. I see a woman pass by. She looks about my age and she is wearing a backpack. I wonder if she is walking to work. I take another sip from my cheerfully yellow coffee mug.

Jesus did so much more than look at us with compassion. He put on our skin, ate bread, thirsted for water, covered his feet in dust, endured temptation and when he looked at a person, he saw them.

As a child of the age of the prosperity gospel, I reflect on the Israelites and the admonishment that Moses gave them before they entered the promised land.

"Take care lest you forget the Lord your God by not keeping his commandments and his rules and his statutes, which I command you today, lest, when you have eaten and are full and have built good houses and live in them, and when your herds and flocks multiply and your silver and gold is multiplied and all that you have is multiplied, then your heart be lifted up, and you forget the Lord your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery... Beware lest you say in your heart, 'My power and the might of my hand have gotten me this wealth...'" Deuteronomy 8:11-17

And what is the command of God? "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might." Deuteronomy 6:5 And Jesus quotes this verse to the religious leaders of the day and adds that the second commandment, "is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself." Matthew 22:39

In the comfort of our air conditioned apartment, as I type on my laptop and sip my coffee, I can hardly say that I have tasted poverty. But I do feel that I have walked through a wall. Thank you God for punching a hole in own unconscious judgement and giving me an opportunity to walk a short mile in another man's shoes.

I look out my window again and instead of seeing strangers pass by, I see my neighbors. Help me with the next part, Lord. The Good Samaritan part. When Jesus was asked, 'well, who is my neighbor?" He responded by telling the story of the Good Samaritan. The Good Samaritan, well, he was a person who, in the midst of his regular day, saw a neighbor in need and he stopped to help.

Jesus noticed my need, and he stopped his own heart to help. And now, with his heart, I have the incredible gift of doing the same. Please keep removing the wall of judgment that I so easily constuct and give me courage to act when my neighbor needs help.

What would I do for a cup of coffee? Anyone who knows me recognizes my 'small' and happy addiction. But I want something more. Water.

"Jesus said to her, 'Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks of the water that I will give him will never be thirsty again. The water that I will give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life." John 4:13-14

Birding beginnings.

[Danelle and I feeding the city pigeons - January 2012, Old Quito, Ecuador]

With our transient living status, Jon and I have been brainstorming ideas for hobbies that can travel with us. This weekend we each made a list of five things that we like to do or would like to do together. Fortunately for us (being married and all) we had almost everything in common. It then became a matter of narrowing down what we wanted to pursue. Reading, cooking, and studying scripture together. Those are things that happen pretty naturally in our routine together. But at the top of both of our lists was a hobby that we had talked about in the past but is completely new to both of us. Birding.

Pros of birding: 

1. Relatively cheap - start up cost includes a field journal, a North American Bird guide, and cost of printing any photos we might take.

2. Easy to travel with - birds (with the gift of flight) are everywhere.

3. A hobby that we could invite friends to join us on. A beautiful hike in a park? Totally, yeah!

Jon and I started researching together our new role as 'birders.' Our internet browsing was quickly enlightening to both of us. Birding is much more involved then we imaged and the world of birders is absolutely incredible. We feel like the tourists who stand out with their gaudy travel clothes and giant cameras hanging around their necks, pointing at landmarks with little understanding of the history and context of the thing they are taking so many pictures of.

Birding is serious. Jon taught me about 'pishing.' This is a sound that some birders use to attract the attention of birds. However, many birders frown on the practice because it is disturbing the natural environment. The whole point of birding is observation, according to the diehards. Jon and I jokingly practiced 'pishing' to one another the rest of the afternoon but honestly, we were feeling overwhelmed by our new hobby before we even started.

But then I remembered Chef Ramsay. He often instructs chefs and restaurant owners to 'stick to the basics.' The most beautiful meals are often the most simple.

Why do we want to watch birds? The joy of being in nature and observing and recording and reflecting on God's beautiful creation is so beautifully simple.

This week, I bought a green journal with soft drawings of birds and butterflies on the cover. It is full of empty pages just begging to be filled with all kinds of nature and birdy observations.

 [School girl playing with the city pigeons - January 2012, Old Quito, Ecuador]

Sometimes, I become paralyzed by an idea without actually trying it. Like a juvenile bird venturing from the nest for the very first time, Jon and I are awkwardly flapping our wings into this new endeavor. Flying has to start somewhere.