Humbled, Always.

I have several blog posts appropriately named, "humbled."  Truth be told, I think the majority of them could be so labeled.  God continually challenges me by my lack of generosity or lack of faith, or lack, but in a good, kind way.  I need him, always.

I have had the privilege of participating in a monthly pastors' wive's meeting.  It is a sweet time of fellowship and learning more about the Word, what God calls us to as women, health issues, and more.  All of these dear women live in surrounding villages and it is a blessing to have them all come into town to gather together.

Two months ago, about halfway through the morning, the women with babies decided it was time for baths.  At 10:30 in the morning.  Decided, as in, "where is the hot water and basin?"   Ok, let me go grab those things.  I struggled.  That's how rich I am in generosity.  It's not easy to admit!  And I love these sweet little babies!

Last month I was ready, as God, in His great mercy, had prepared me to be a little more welcoming and kind and actually have the basin ready ahead of time, whether I think babies need a bath in the middle of the morning or not.  I was not reluctant, and proud of myself for it! (wow.)   I do find that it isn't the big cultural differences that get to me, but the little ones, usually when I wonder if I'm being taken advantage of.

I'm pretty sure Jesus didn't give a second thought to whether or not he was being taken advantage of, since "everywhere he went, they brought the sick out..."  Worrying about being taken advantage of is in stark contrast to true service.

Take two.

Last Sunday a vehicle was stuck after the service and Dave was busy working to get it unstuck.  We have been at the village church in the village we used to live in, so we know the people of that congregation well.  Most of the kids went home in another car, and I tried to get a very tired, unhappy Ben to sleep in my arms in our car.  He was screaming his head off--he just needs his bed.

A mama from church came to the car and said, "Oh Mama Hannah!  He's crying because he needs a bath!"

Well, that was not the first thing that had come to mind.  "Come with me to my house."  At that point, I was up for anything.  Lauren, Ben and I followed Mama Baraka through some little mud houses, past some sunflowers and into the little dirt clearing between her two mud rooms.  She pulled out a small wooden chair for me and filled a basin with plenty of water, then plopped Ben into it.

He grinned, pleased with this effort.   He splashed around, flinging his hands out with droplets of water onto the packed dirt: a small, chubby pope bestowing wild blessings from his sacred bath.

While he lingered, Mama Baraka brought a fresh bar of soap, retrieved a clean, folded kanga (material for a wrap) to dry him off, and then produced two kinds of baby body lotion for me to choose from.

I'm sure you can see where I'm headed with this.  Or where God was headed.

How humbling.  To receive such sweet, eager, wholehearted generosity from a mama who had to carry the water from the well herself, use her little money to buy soap and lotion...my heart was greatly instructed.  Jesus, forgive me.  I am so not like you.  I learn from your people in this place every day. I still have so much to learn about generosity.

 But God has chosen the things which the world regards as foolish, in order to put its wise men to shame; and God has chosen the things which the world regards as destitute of influence, in order to put its powerful things to shame...I Cor. 1:27

Mama Emma (short for Emmanuel, a boy who used to come play at our house) saw me and called to me to come visit her house, too, "We have been waiting for months for you to visit!"  We headed down the path: a humbled mama, a barefoot Lauren and a very clean and good-smelling Ben.  Offered a chair again, we greeted everyone and had a little chat about Mama Emma's youngest who has Down's Syndrome.  She is a gorgeous little pumpkin of a 4-year-old who just recently learned to walk.  "Emma!  Go run after that chicken and give it to Mama Hannah!"

                                                          

Emma ran around the yard furiously, chasing a world-class runner of a chicken, grabbed it recklessly, and brought it to Lauren.  She held it delicately, and seizing its opportunity for escape, it flapped desperately and let out a series of loud squawks right in Ben's face.  Ben loves chickens as much as I do, but he loves them from a distance.  He let out his own series of loud squawks and clung to me.  Mama Emma and the children roared with laughter, and then Mama Emma promptly advised:

"He needs a bath!"

She was only dissuaded when she found out that he had just had a bath.

Five minutes ago.

She sent us on our way with our speckled hen and a heart full of the good medicine of laughter.  My heart is always full when I leave the village.  Full, and humbled.

Truly, "those who walk in pride, He is able to humble" Dan. 4:37