The days of blessing

Each day that we getcloser to the reality of starting a church, I am reminded at the journey thatgot us here. I am consistently living in the space between poverty and blessingand I have to remind myself daily that life is how you live it, not what youmake of it. My daughter talked and talked and talked the last two days with me,as we were hiding in the boys room doing a Extreme Room Makeover and I sawsomething in her stories that I had to share.

“Mama, people think I am rich,” Carah said as we painted theroom purple. “They do? Why?” my inquisitive mind could not wait to hear heranswer. “I think it is because of the clothes I wear and the house I live in,but we are not rich!” I had to chuckle at the notion that my daughter wasirritated that people thought she was rich. “Well we actually are very rich,Carah,” I told her, “We are rich in blessings, that is why people assume youare rich.” She pondered that idea for a moment and said, “Yeah, and people atschool know I have a beach house and they think that we have lots of money. Butwe don’t!” This conversation was delighting me. I saw my precious daughterstruggle with the tension of blessing and financial lack. She perceived in herheart the fact that the blessings we lived with were so great that peoplepresumed financial wealth.

We painted a little longer in silence as I considered how toapproach her heart.  “When someone asksyou if you are rich, tell them yes! You are rich. You are rich in blessing,rich in love, and rich in spirit. You wear some of the most expensive clothesthere are and you live in a house that has a pool, a guest house, a shop and anoffice. Your bedroom is decked out with name brand, top of the line bedding andyou have traveled placed most people would never be able to go to. You are kindand confident and stand up for what you believe in and you are covered withgrace from Jesus that gives you a gentle spirit. You are very rich. Wealth isnot determined by how much money one has in their bank account, wealth isdetermined by the character of our being, the blessings of God.” Her browfurrowed. She did not like the idea that she was rich. I couldn’t understandwhy. I let her process it in her head for a while as we continued to paint.

She didn’t say much after that as we painted. I could seeshe was trying to evaluate what I had said. The community we live in is rich inagriculture and tradition. Most of the farmers who live here have been here forclose to 100 years. Families who migrated to this country farmed the land andthen handed the farm and land down to their kids and grandkids. Most are Danishand Portuguese. Their farms are over 100 acres. There are not a lot of houseshere. When a house comes up for sale, someone from the community usually buysit. The same is true of the migrant farmers who work the land. Most are fromMexico and many of the families who moved here came 2 and 3 generations ago.They worked on the farms, their kids worked on the farm and their grandkids arenow going to school with my kids. Their kids, who graduated and went tocollege, still live in the community but work in the nearby large city. There isalso the Asian population, who have migrated to this country recently andbought land to farm. They are smaller farms, 5 or so acres, they live communal,with 3 to 4 families all on 1 property working the farm. Then there are the fewlike us, who ended up in this community on a fluke. There are not many peoplewho live here without some historical tie to this community.

As a result, there is class and racial segregation. It issubtle but noticeable. Early on, in elementary school, kids identify who the “rich”kids are and there is a certain order that must be followed. When my kidsstarted at the elementary school in this community, the kids perceived my kidsas “rich.” Carah experienced expectations that were placed on her to act and bea certain way that was in tune with being one of the “rich” kids. This is wherethe distain for being rich started.

“You know what I don’t like about people thinking I am rich,”Carah finally said. “I don’t want people to think I am a mean girl. I don’tlike it when people are mean to other kids just because they are rich.” Hertone got somber and tears swelled up in her eyes. “I am not rich, we are onfood stamps and I get hand me down clothes and we can’t pay our rent and ourcars don’t work and we can’t even afford to take piano lessons. I mean mosteverything in our house was given to us and we don’t even have enough money to…”her voice trailed off. “Do you know what happened at school the other day?” shesaid sharply. “My class was dismissed earlier for lunch then Mr. Moe’s class,which never happens. But we had a sub, so we got to the lunch line first. Whichlike never happens. We got our food and sat down on some tables that we neversit at, because we were dismissed first. Jennifer (name changed) came into thelunch room and told my friend, ‘You’re sitting in my seat!’ I was so mad andsaid, ‘You don’t own that seat, Jennifer!” She rolled her eyes and looked at myfriend and said, ‘Ugh, I always sit there!’ She didn’t even look at me and Isaid, ‘Well not today!’ Can you believe that mama?” Carah was getting riled up.“Just because she is ‘rich’ (she added air quotes) she thinks she can dowhatever she wants and people just let her. She cuts in line and no one saysanything. Well except me, always say something. It is so dumb. I don’t want tobe like that. That’s why I get mad when people say that I am ‘rich’!” She waswaving her arms around and moving around the room with a fierce intensity. Ikept painting, trying hard not to let her see the smirk on my face. I wasdelighted. Not only at the conversation, but at the way my daughter handledthis situation.

My homeschooled daughter had experienced class and socialwarfare. She saw her peers being mistreated based on their economic status andstood up in the face of injustice. It’s not the first time she has done this.She has experienced racial tension when a group from the same ethnic backgroundexcludes someone who is not by speaking their native language and not includedthem in a game. She has not tolerated that either and has fought for the kidbeing left out. I see her little heart being shaped by this experience.

“The next time someone asks you if you are rich, Carah, say ‘Yes,I am very rich,’ because you are. You are the daughter of the King of Kings.You are a princess,” I told her. She gave me a disapproving look. “You are aprincess. Your Father is a King, that makes you princess. That is why peoplethink you are rich, because you are. You are so blessed. Look around you. Evenwith all the hand me downs we get and the money we receive from other people,it is the best. God gives us the best. Not because He has to, but because hewants to. He wants you and brothers and mama and daddy to know that He lovesus, that He has not forgotten us. Our situation is hard, not having a job isstressful, but God always takes care of us.”

Carah kept painting. I saw a light bulb go off in her mind. “Likethis paint,” I said. We were given 2 gallons of paint, never used. The colorsare the colors of your brother’s high school. What are the odds? It is not a coincidence,it is God.” We finished the room, 11 hours later and stood back and look atwhat weaccomplished. “It looks awesome! Like a model home,” Carah said. “Yeah, itdoes,” I chuckled, “It looks like something a rich person would have in their house!”

“Better the little that therighteous have than the wealth of many wicked” Psalm 37:16