Beggars Are Generous

One day I was talking to my PBT coach about how much money I don't have. I then walked into the the office of a friend and missionary. "I need money!" I wailed. She went to grab her bag and fish out her wallet. "for what?" she asked as she dug. "To go to PNG." "oh," was her reply as she paused in her search. "I only have $5 but you can have it if you want."
This woman, recently married, trying to raise her own support, leapt for her $5 to give me, not knowing why I needed it but just knowing that I did.

A man in Vegas, down on his luck, posting regularly on FB about his financial struggles, a man with little, heard that I was going to be in Vegas without a car and was worried about getting around. He offered his while he was at work. A man with almost nothing, leapt at the chance to share what he did have.

I think that people who have to ask other people for money (not that either of these friends should be defined as beggars any more than I should be) and know what it's like to be dependent on their generosity are more generous than most. I feel like there's something wrong with that. That people who have plenty should be the ones who whip out their resources at the slightest mention of need. But I guess, as the saying goes (I'm not aware of a verse though) "God uses the poor to shame the rich."

Looking for Opportunities in GA, Prayers please!

Here I am at Southern Hills Christian Church, trying to meet individuals who might be interested in supporting me. Some of the life groups that we thought were going to be meeting this week are actually not going to be meeting. So that's caused a little worry about whether or not I'll get enough face time with individuals to find supporters. But today I'll go talk to the small group pastor about groups that WILL be meeting and which of those would be good for me to attend. I'll also be talking to the head pastor about area churches that he has connections with that might be interested in meeting me.
Saturday I met one couple, Sunday I attended service and shook the hands of many people, and today is my first day in the office and I'm going to try to get some things lined up.
Prayers please

My encounter with a homeless man

I was on my way to Georgia.
It was about dinner time and I figured I should just stop in Birmingham and get something to eat even though I was only two hours out. I'm sure, I thought, the Jones's will eat before I arrive.
So I pulled off at an exit that featured a Krystals (we dont have those in VA) and as I was waiting for the light at the end of the exit ramp, I noticed a man. He was a young man. Probably a little older than me. with a few bundles of belongings behind him and a cardboard sign. It read "Traveling. Need Anything." All I really had was a five dollar bill in my back pocket. The food in my car inventoried at 4 Chips Ahoy White Fudge Chunk Chocolate Chip Cookies (crunchy of course), a mostly eaten bag of Pita Chips, a few starbursts, a few Dove chocolates with caramel filling, and those awesome chocolate eggs that only come out for Easter time. Not a marvelous offering. "If only I had some real food," I thought. "Oh! I'm going to get dinner right now!!!"
The light turned green. I slowed as I past him and called out, "Hey, if you meet me at Krystals I'll buy you dinner."
I showed up at this fast food joint and informed the staff, who were very perplexed as to why I sat instead of ordered, that I was waiting for someone. I didn't see him coming over. So I checked my email and updated my facebook. Still he didn't come. So I prayed that if this man who God loved was hungry that he would come and let me serve him.
I ordered my food and ate and waited some more.
And I thought about this man. This man that God loved. Who was just trying to get somewhere. Who had a story. A reason why he was standing with a cardboard sign instead of driving like most people. A history. Dreams and hopes and fears and regrets. A man that God loved. And I loved him. And I wanted to sit with him at Krystals and ask him who he was and why he was here, where he had come from and where he was going.
But he didn't come.
I drove back to get on the interstate. And there he was standing with his sign. I guess he needed something more specific than anything. But I wish he would've had dinner with me. Because I loved him.
I fall in love with strangers often.
I was stood up by a homeless man.

Singsing

A singsing is a tradition song and dance in Papua New Guinea. When my internship team landed in Samban, where we lived in the bush, we were greeted with a singsing. Men, women, and children dressed in grass skirts, elaborate headdresses, paint, and mud danced the dances of their ancestors to welcome us into their village. It was quite an experience. But this wasn't to be the only time we had an opportunity to experience a singsing. Twice more, while we were there, singsings were going to be preformed. Once for the Pryors, the previous Pioneer Bible Translators missionaries who were working in Samban on the ApMa project. And once for the grand opening of the local elementary school. One of the members of my team loved the singsing so much that she asked if she could be a part of it. When her request was granted she returned to the team to ask one of us to join her so she wouldn't be alone. I said yes. So on the day the plane was to come we went over to the house where everyone was preparing and we learned the moves. This was a big deal. While I just felt like we were jumping about, and many were just laughing at the white women, there were a few who were very adamant that they dance be done right, that we jump about properly. Suddenly, all the children jumped up screaming "balus!" The children heard the plane long before I did. We ran to the bridge. (The first singsing had begun at the runway but the nationals decided that the white women wouldn't be able to preform the singsing for a full mile. I agree.) While waiting for the preformances at the runway to end and for the Pryors to come to the bridge, the nationals painted my face and arms with mud and paint and tied grass around my arms and ankles. And then we danced and danced. The end was not too soon. I was worn out by the end!