"The POOR Box"
I am writing this for Rebecca and all my other 'twisted' friends who greatly enjoyed the retelling. I do hope I do it justice on paper.
A little background about myself. I was raised by a mother who was a gifted story teller from a long line of gifted story tellers. So I come by my twisted mind honestly, and without any doubt in my mind, my family and I are proof that God has a phenomenal sense of humor. I believe life is a journey and laughter is on the menu daily. It is a choice to be sour and unhappy and I have decided life is too short. Besides if the Good Lord wanted me to be unhappy why would he have made me so funny :). Pretty simple philosophy.
Important player you need to know:
Fortune- Sweetest most Godly lady I have ever know extremely meek and mild. Church secretary, my first friend at our new church. Since gone to Glory.
Proverbs 16:18 Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall.
At the time this story takes place we were raising five children. Some different than now but five, all under the age of nine. We were VERY newly saved Christians and still walking in baby shoes. Stumbling and bumbling our way through. An issue I had not even begun to get a hold of yet was pride.
The day started out like any other Sunday for a new Christian family with 5 kids and a prideful mother. I had been up since the crack of dawn doing my three girls hair, ironing clothes that were PERFECT in every way. You know the kind, outfits match the shoes and the socks are specially ordered for THAT outfit. Boys suits are ready. First Diaper bag is packed, emergency second diaper bag is packed. Car is clean (someone could look in it, silly). We are off to church on what was probably a beautiful fall day, but I was already too exhausted to notice. The kids were bantering back and forth about Christmas, as the new Sears catalogue had come and the kids were thrilled.
The conversation soon took an ugly turn when the "I wants began." "Mommy, I want..." and "I want..." and "I want..." I detest "I want." I went into overdrive and clearly informed every last little face that under NO CIRCUMSTANCES was I to hear "I WANT" again! "Do you all under stand......no more..... we are broke, on austerity, does everyone understand?" I was met with little nods and great big eyes. Because of course, mom had snapped.
We arrived at church quietly, (go figure) went in and sat down. We sit in the First row of a large church. All is well, church, kids, all normal, then as we are about to start my husband informs me that he needs to slip out and use the bathroom. REALLY.. that's against the rules, he...knows ...that. So off he goes just as the music begins. Well I am not sure what happened, but announcements are now over and no husband. The ushers organize for the collection and I start to sweat. "What am I going to do!" My dork of a husband has been kidnapped by aliens it seems and he took our tithe with him. All I know is I am new to this church thing and the plate is coming down the isle so I start doing what every normal adult does...talking to myself (I do this a lot) "The collecton is between us and God, no one is judging me, its no one else's business, I will put it in after etc..." I can self talk pretty quick when I am sweating. Well sitting between my husband and I was our second oldest daughter who is about five. Five and the biggest piece of work God ever made. She is sitting there as meek and quiet as a mouse, and is now at the end of the row since it seems her father is about to become the next edition of America's Most Wanted. The plate comes to me, I pass it to her and out of that teeny tiny mousy little darling mouth comes "SORRY, WE'RE BROKE!" in a voice that rattled the windows as she passes the plate to the deacon. Now, in case you have any questions, I will clarify for you, that little voice silenced that entire church... well until the laughter began. If you could will yourself to die, I would be daisy fertilizer. I don't remember much more of that day except that my husband's ride home was probably uncomfortable.
My husband is the kind of man that in all the years of our marriage he has never even taken a lunch to work, he does not watch sports or go out with friends. He is happy if he has $1.00 for coffee every day and fifty cents for the snack machine. He is simple to please. However, he does have one request a year that I always think is frivolous but how can you deny a man one request a year. For my husband it is a Plainville turkey. If you know anything about these birds, they are raised naturally are fresh and expensive...very, very expensive. He orders one every year.
On the "SORRY WE'RE BROKE" year, about a week after the church incident he went out to pick up our Mega-turkey. That same crisp dark night about two hours after he left, I noticed lights come down our drive way. Well, we live in the middle of the country. We don't have neighbors, I just thought, turkeys here.... with his turkey. ( Oh, don't worry I get mine) I am busy doing I don't know what, when a knock comes at the door. Strange, must have forgot his key. I fling the door open, in my bare feet and flannel nightgown and there stands two of the deacons from our church. OH LORD, now what do I do? Do I invite them in? Is that appropriate? Do I leave them on the step and get dressed, get a robe..... WHAT DO I DO? I settle on letting them in, pick up the baby and sit down just praying that provides some extra coverage. Maybe they are oblivious like my husband and think I am in a dress. That is when they show me 'THE BOX', they tell me they have a little gift for us for the holidays. My head is spinning..."It's a poor box, I know it is.... I think I might throw up." More lights down the drive way and my husband is home. Here is where I begin frantically praying like I have not prayed frantically for something so ridiculous before. "Oh Lord please, I'm not asking I'm begging, please don't let him bring that bird in the house. Please Lord, please let him leave that STUPID turkey in the car." He comes in No turkey, YES, oh yeah, thank you Lord" and they tell him about the box, he thanks them and talks hunting. The two deacons leave and he actually looks at me and says, "Wasn't that nice of them." Captain Oblivious is only missing his cape and mask it seems. I must have looked horrified because I got the response I find so perplexing. "What?" "What do you mean, "What"?" "It's a POOR BOX!" He looks into the photo copy paper box and gives another thought provoking response. "no." "YES, yes , yes... It is a poor box, for the SORRY WE'RE BROKE" family. In the box was a little bag of potatoes, some veggies and a small turkey. A really nice thing indeed, if of course you were in need and did not have a turkey bigger than your 2 year old that weighed even more than him, sitting on the front seat of your car. Now we are both staring in the box horrified. "What are we going to do?" It's all I can think to say. He comes up with, "Call Fortune, Fortune will know, she knows everything." Truth be told, she did. So I call, not sure how to even begin this conversation. After some hemming and hawing I get around to asking if the church gives out boxes to families in need. Well poor Fortune opened my flood gates in the next few minutes. She is telling me how the deacons decide on the needy families and no one knows who gets them, by now I am sobbing and she thinks it is because I am touched by the gesture. At which point I ask if she got one. Her family was struggling, they had a kid in college, she was the best person I knew, she deserved one. Well I started crying even harder and I said "But, your poorer than I am, and we just got one, what am I going to do." Well she started to laugh and put very simply said, "Be grateful." I thanked her and hung up and went immediately back into a frantic mess. My husband is waiting to hear, all I can do is nod and cry....."It's a poor box."
Well now we are stuck. Morally, we can't keep it. So without telling we donated all the food and the turkey to our local food pantry. Really it was given so that someone who needed it would get it, not someone with a $70.00 turkey plopped in their car. That gave us peace.
The following Sunday I sat in church praying Fortune was right, that no one knew about the box. But in time I told someone, I believe Rebecca and her laughter made it all OK. It humbled me to remember what is important and taught me that My girls hair and clothes were not more important than their hearts or mine. I learned though that poor box about the generosity of people who give much even though they have little. It taught me that every Christian has a "POOR BOX" that needs filled, but for each Christian the need is different.
It is Fortune's words "Be grateful" that are he moral of the story. Fortune had a way during her too-short-time on this earth in teaching something life changing very simply. To be grateful, I had to be humble, to be humble I had to let go of my pride. You see as it turns out, I can look back upon those early years and tell you I really was in dire need of a "Poor Box." My box did not need corn and yams, it needed wisdom and grace. It needed humility and joy for things that are given of the spirit and not of the wallet, it needed companionship with fellow believers. I pray that you will take time to fill a new Christians "Poor Box." if you do, you strengthen the family of God for the love of a Savior that lived and died for you.
The day started out like any other Sunday for a new Christian family with 5 kids and a prideful mother. I had been up since the crack of dawn doing my three girls hair, ironing clothes that were PERFECT in every way. You know the kind, outfits match the shoes and the socks are specially ordered for THAT outfit. Boys suits are ready. First Diaper bag is packed, emergency second diaper bag is packed. Car is clean (someone could look in it, silly). We are off to church on what was probably a beautiful fall day, but I was already too exhausted to notice. The kids were bantering back and forth about Christmas, as the new Sears catalogue had come and the kids were thrilled.
The conversation soon took an ugly turn when the "I wants began." "Mommy, I want..." and "I want..." and "I want..." I detest "I want." I went into overdrive and clearly informed every last little face that under NO CIRCUMSTANCES was I to hear "I WANT" again! "Do you all under stand......no more..... we are broke, on austerity, does everyone understand?" I was met with little nods and great big eyes. Because of course, mom had snapped.
We arrived at church quietly, (go figure) went in and sat down. We sit in the First row of a large church. All is well, church, kids, all normal, then as we are about to start my husband informs me that he needs to slip out and use the bathroom. REALLY.. that's against the rules, he...knows ...that. So off he goes just as the music begins. Well I am not sure what happened, but announcements are now over and no husband. The ushers organize for the collection and I start to sweat. "What am I going to do!" My dork of a husband has been kidnapped by aliens it seems and he took our tithe with him. All I know is I am new to this church thing and the plate is coming down the isle so I start doing what every normal adult does...talking to myself (I do this a lot) "The collecton is between us and God, no one is judging me, its no one else's business, I will put it in after etc..." I can self talk pretty quick when I am sweating. Well sitting between my husband and I was our second oldest daughter who is about five. Five and the biggest piece of work God ever made. She is sitting there as meek and quiet as a mouse, and is now at the end of the row since it seems her father is about to become the next edition of America's Most Wanted. The plate comes to me, I pass it to her and out of that teeny tiny mousy little darling mouth comes "SORRY, WE'RE BROKE!" in a voice that rattled the windows as she passes the plate to the deacon. Now, in case you have any questions, I will clarify for you, that little voice silenced that entire church... well until the laughter began. If you could will yourself to die, I would be daisy fertilizer. I don't remember much more of that day except that my husband's ride home was probably uncomfortable.
My husband is the kind of man that in all the years of our marriage he has never even taken a lunch to work, he does not watch sports or go out with friends. He is happy if he has $1.00 for coffee every day and fifty cents for the snack machine. He is simple to please. However, he does have one request a year that I always think is frivolous but how can you deny a man one request a year. For my husband it is a Plainville turkey. If you know anything about these birds, they are raised naturally are fresh and expensive...very, very expensive. He orders one every year.
On the "SORRY WE'RE BROKE" year, about a week after the church incident he went out to pick up our Mega-turkey. That same crisp dark night about two hours after he left, I noticed lights come down our drive way. Well, we live in the middle of the country. We don't have neighbors, I just thought, turkeys here.... with his turkey. ( Oh, don't worry I get mine) I am busy doing I don't know what, when a knock comes at the door. Strange, must have forgot his key. I fling the door open, in my bare feet and flannel nightgown and there stands two of the deacons from our church. OH LORD, now what do I do? Do I invite them in? Is that appropriate? Do I leave them on the step and get dressed, get a robe..... WHAT DO I DO? I settle on letting them in, pick up the baby and sit down just praying that provides some extra coverage. Maybe they are oblivious like my husband and think I am in a dress. That is when they show me 'THE BOX', they tell me they have a little gift for us for the holidays. My head is spinning..."It's a poor box, I know it is.... I think I might throw up." More lights down the drive way and my husband is home. Here is where I begin frantically praying like I have not prayed frantically for something so ridiculous before. "Oh Lord please, I'm not asking I'm begging, please don't let him bring that bird in the house. Please Lord, please let him leave that STUPID turkey in the car." He comes in No turkey, YES, oh yeah, thank you Lord" and they tell him about the box, he thanks them and talks hunting. The two deacons leave and he actually looks at me and says, "Wasn't that nice of them." Captain Oblivious is only missing his cape and mask it seems. I must have looked horrified because I got the response I find so perplexing. "What?" "What do you mean, "What"?" "It's a POOR BOX!" He looks into the photo copy paper box and gives another thought provoking response. "no." "YES, yes , yes... It is a poor box, for the SORRY WE'RE BROKE" family. In the box was a little bag of potatoes, some veggies and a small turkey. A really nice thing indeed, if of course you were in need and did not have a turkey bigger than your 2 year old that weighed even more than him, sitting on the front seat of your car. Now we are both staring in the box horrified. "What are we going to do?" It's all I can think to say. He comes up with, "Call Fortune, Fortune will know, she knows everything." Truth be told, she did. So I call, not sure how to even begin this conversation. After some hemming and hawing I get around to asking if the church gives out boxes to families in need. Well poor Fortune opened my flood gates in the next few minutes. She is telling me how the deacons decide on the needy families and no one knows who gets them, by now I am sobbing and she thinks it is because I am touched by the gesture. At which point I ask if she got one. Her family was struggling, they had a kid in college, she was the best person I knew, she deserved one. Well I started crying even harder and I said "But, your poorer than I am, and we just got one, what am I going to do." Well she started to laugh and put very simply said, "Be grateful." I thanked her and hung up and went immediately back into a frantic mess. My husband is waiting to hear, all I can do is nod and cry....."It's a poor box."
Well now we are stuck. Morally, we can't keep it. So without telling we donated all the food and the turkey to our local food pantry. Really it was given so that someone who needed it would get it, not someone with a $70.00 turkey plopped in their car. That gave us peace.
The following Sunday I sat in church praying Fortune was right, that no one knew about the box. But in time I told someone, I believe Rebecca and her laughter made it all OK. It humbled me to remember what is important and taught me that My girls hair and clothes were not more important than their hearts or mine. I learned though that poor box about the generosity of people who give much even though they have little. It taught me that every Christian has a "POOR BOX" that needs filled, but for each Christian the need is different.
It is Fortune's words "Be grateful" that are he moral of the story. Fortune had a way during her too-short-time on this earth in teaching something life changing very simply. To be grateful, I had to be humble, to be humble I had to let go of my pride. You see as it turns out, I can look back upon those early years and tell you I really was in dire need of a "Poor Box." My box did not need corn and yams, it needed wisdom and grace. It needed humility and joy for things that are given of the spirit and not of the wallet, it needed companionship with fellow believers. I pray that you will take time to fill a new Christians "Poor Box." if you do, you strengthen the family of God for the love of a Savior that lived and died for you.
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