We had a very important meeting after church one Sunday - some of us pastors. You see, we were concerned about our community and came together to talk about how we might help the least -of-these round and about our side of the county. I hoped to get everybody on board to do backpacks for the elementary school children every weekend. My plan was for each of us to take a school and collect enough peanut butter crackers, granola bars and tomato soup to send home with the young ones who would have little, if any, food from Friday til Monday. It was a good plan. And it came to fruition. Just not like I thought it would. Instead of each church adopting a school, our faithful little congregation adopted a full set: one elementary, one middle and one high school. The other pastors had plans, too. Their congregations each had a vision for what they could do and it really was a thing of beauty to watch it unfold. Again, a wonderful plan... just not mine.
There was this one pastor who was very excited about bread ministry. Their church had an on-going weekly source for a large quantity of commercially baked goods - which they laid out on tables in their fellowship hall and invited people in the area to come in and get what they needed. Anybody could come. And they could take whatever they wanted. Simple and effective. They got the bread on Fridays and if there was anything left over by Sunday morning, the congregants would load it up in boxes after church and take it with them. To be sure, some went into their lunchboxes and casserole dishes. Some may have fed beloved pets or farm animals. Many took it to work on Monday morning and gave it out. Again, very effective distribution plan. On that particular Sunday, this pastor showed up to our important pastor's meeting with a couple of boxes of leftovers. We all selected a loaf or two apiece but, as luck (and grace) would have it, and since we were meeting at my church, there were two almost full boxes of bread left on the table after everybody was gone.
Now, I'm going to be brutally honest, I was not amused. Here I was, hosting the pastors - shoot, I got pizza for lunch and made a salad. And cleaned up to boot. Then, I got stuck with a bunch of bread that I had to figure out how to get rid of. Yes. That was my spiritual take on the situation. Great. What am I going to do with all this stuff? Couldn't leave it at the church - it wouldn't be fit to eat by the time we came back on Wednesday night. I looked through the boxes. There was white bread and wheat bread, rye, pumpernickel and raisin. Hamburger buns, hot dog buns, honey buns. There were even some white powdered donuts. Confession: I might have eaten a few of those. Couldn't help it - being responsible for all that bread stressed me out. Ever the martyr, I loaded it up in the backseat of my car and decided I'd worry about it on Monday. I sort of had a plan... even though I wasn't working (my other job) the next day, I could take it by the shop and leave it for the crews. One Sunday-afternoon-nap later and I'd forgotten all about the boxes in the car.
Monday found me running errands, one of which was to drop off the bread. But beforehand, I headed to the local Lifeway bookstore to pick up a bunch of Bible study guides we had ordered. There were quite a few of them - a couple of bags full - and they were heavy. The young man at the customer service desk offered to carry them to my car. There comes a time in one's life when one does not pass up an offer to carry heavy things. We chatted about important stuff like the weather... and the weather... Approaching the car, I remembered the full back seat. Hold on, I told the fellow, I have to move some stuff around. When I opened the door, I kid you not, it smelled like a bakery in there. In a really good way. The heat from the sun had re-activated that fresh-from-the-oven aroma and it was heavenly. He was in awe... Wow! What are you doing with all that bread? I sighed. I have to give it away. (Poor me. What a burden I bear.) And then, the moment. Do you think I could have some? A mixture of embarrassed and hopeful. And hungry. Sure, I said. Take all you want. That's what it's for. Really? Really. Wow, again. And the story tumbled out. He rented a house with a bunch of guys and they were all at the end of the month... and the money. Mind if I take some for them, too? You can take it all. Jackpot. Christmas. The lottery. Oh, ma'am. You don't know what a blessing this is. (I think it's dawning on me.) He took out the boxes and put in the books and I fumbled in my purse. Glory be, there was a twenty. Here. Get you some peanut butter and baloney and cheese to go with that bread. Wow, one more time. God bless you! (He already did, son. He already did.) I managed to wave goodbye and put on my sunglasses before the tears started falling. Man shall not live by bread alone. But some days, it's a really good place to start. Selah.
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