Only Ten Dollars

Recently I received a check from the school. It was additional funds that were above and beyond the cost of my tuition and books for the semester. I am not rich. Not even close. So this little bit of extra money was appreciated. I decided that I would use a **little** bit of it to get my kids each something for their birthdays this year, and the rest I would use towards bills.

I decided to get them all three the same thing, and that I would get the gifts now and then hide them away until their birthdays (January, March and June). So, the other day I stopped in at SuperTarget and grabbed the said items. I was sort of in a hurry. And when I know **exactly** what I want, I mean it when I say, "I'm just gonna run in, grab this and run out."

Anyway, because I am in a hurry, I pick the shortest line. 2 people in front of me. The cashier was just finished ringing up this gentleman's order and proceeded to tell him the grand total. He is having a hard time understanding her English and she cannot speak Spanish. The cashier had already loaded his bags into his cart, and they were packed full of groceries. I am not sure how many mouths he has to feed, but my guess is a lot. The cashier is explaining to the man he doesn't have enough money. He is not understanding. She is pointing to the digital display, trying to explain once again that the amount of cash he had given her was not enough.

My first thought was, "Oh great! And I thought this was the SHORT line!" But then, I glimpsed my attitude in the face of the woman in front of me. She let out not one, not two, but THREE heavy sighs, adding a major eye-roll, which she turned and displayed for the rest of us as if to say, "Can you believe this???", and topping it all off with her hands-on-hips-I-am-too-important-to-have-to-stand-here-and-witness-this move. The lady behind me jumped on that ship and added two loud heavy sighs of her own, along with a rhythmic tapping of her undoubtedly, name-brand stilettos.

I realized that my being irritated was not going to help. I also realized that my initial feeling of exasperation was just about as ridiculous as the looks on these two ladies faces. At this point, the cashier decides that since he doesn't understand English, perhaps she could speak LOUDER, cuz that might just help. As she is explaining that he is about ten dollars short, he is digging in his pockets. The thought occurs to me that he doesn't even realize he is short. I think that he thought she was asking if he had the exact change. Like, if you have two pennies, etc. He digs in his pockets and turns them out empty. She then says, again VERRRRRY LOUDLY and now EXTREMELY SLOWLY, "YOU...DON'T...HAVE...ENOUGH...MONEY!" The man shakes his head "no". Again, I do not think he even understood.

Cereal. Spaghetti noodles. Oranges. Target brand diapers. Ground beef. Bell peppers. These were the items I could see peeking from some of his grocery bags.

Tap. Tap. Tap. The woman behind me clicked her shoes a little more loudly; each tap growing with intensity. The woman in front of me begins to look like a defective bobble-head; the constant shaking of her head from side-to-side. I could practically hear the clucking of her tongue.

Ten Dollars. He was short ten dollars. I had ten dollars cash, in my wallet. It wouldn't take away from **my** budget to give him the ten dollars. After all, this was *extra* money. Could I find a use for the ten dollars? Sure I could. Like I said, I am not rich.

However, just because I have never stood in a line at the grocery store as time stood still and glared at me for not having enough cash, doesn't mean I haven't ever stressed over being able to feed my family. I stress about it. All.The.Time. In fact, over the last two years, I have spent many a countless nights stressing over how I would pay this bill or that bill, or what I could make for dinner the next three nights with the few cans left in my cupboard. I cannot tell you all of the times I have felt like I could not handle just One.More.Thing. And it has been in times like these wherein somebody will have put an envelope of money in my mailbox, or a 20 dollar bill will have turned up in my old jacket, or someone else has brought me dinner or groceries, or let me "borrow" a can of diced tomatoes, a tub of cool whip or even a bag of chocolate chips. I cannot tell you the times I have come home to find my lawn magically mowed or my leaves mysteriously raked or my weeds pulled or my sidewalks and driveway cleared of snow. I am one person. How could I possibly "pay" each of these people back? Especially the anonymous ones...

Nonetheless, this man needed help. Right Now. He didn't have time to go home and see if per chance there was a ten dollar bill in an old coat. It was my chance to pay it forward. And the other thing too, I told myself, I KNOW where this money is going. He is using it to feed and care for his family. He isn't buying drugs or alcohol with it. He isn't gambling with it.

In reality, only about two minutes had passed. And yet, everything seemed slowed; the ticking of the clock filling the space of time, and the sighing and the tapping continued, each echoing a bit more.

"I've got it," I said, my own voice almost unrecognizable to me. I don't know why, but I was shaking as I reached my hand in my purse and fumbled to release the clasp of my wallet. The cashier and the two women gasped, almost in unison. The woman behind me looked at me with shock; the woman in front of me with disgust, and the cashier with disbelief. "I've got it," I said again, reaching out and handing the ten dollar bill to the cashier. I mean it was TEN DOLLARS! And it wasn't really even *my* money, really. I mean, it was given to me, but still.

I didn't like the looks on the women's faces and I decided that I didn't want others to see that in me. Instead I wanted someone to be able to look at me and see His image in my countenance. I wanted to be able to feel good about **finally** being able to help someone. Anyone. All of a sudden, ten dollars didn't seem like so much. I mean, really, with everything I have been given, and especially through the kind acts of others, it was **only** ten dollars. How could I NOT offer?

Isn't this what I want anyway? I asked myself. When I pray, often times I tell the Lord that I will be an instrument in his hands and that if there is anyone who could benefit from any service or deed that I could do, that I might be made aware of it. How do I NOT know that this may have been my chance to be *that* instrument. What if I would have ignored the prompting to help? What blessings or other opportunities might I have missed out on?

I know that some people would call me foolish or wasteful; saying that it wasn't *my* responsibility to help this man out, that he should have planned ahead a little better, or known his circumstance a little more. They may say that I wasted that money on someone else's family, when I could have used it for my own. I mean, that's about 4 gallons of milk right there.

I was still shaking by the time I got up to pay for my own three simple items. The cashier thanked me for doing what I did. I didn't really say much. I think my head was still thinking about all of this, in terms of my relationship with God. Then the cashier went on to say, "This is not the first time this has happened. He has come through my line before, and he has come up short before. It is sooo frustrating. Usually, I have to find someone who speaks Spanish to tell him to put something back."

I sort of gave her a half-nod as I took my receipt and goods and walked out to the car. I opened the door, sat in my front seat and began to sob like a baby. Not because I regretted giving up the Ten Dollars. Not because I felt like a do-gooder, though I did feel good about helping. But I was moved because this thought hit me:

How many times in my life have I come up short? How many times have I taken my case to the Lord in spite of feeling inadequate or unworthy to receive His blessings? And God doesn't say, "Again? This isn't the first time this has happened; you've come down this road before. This is so frustrating." God doesn't call the Savior in and ask Him to explain to us why we can't have what we just might so desperately need at that moment. He doesn't scold us, telling we should have planned a little better or known our circumstance more. No. The Savior paid the price for us. We are saved by His grace, after all we can do.

I am by no means trying to say that I think I was this guy's savior. But it hit me that this man gave all he had and was in need of someone to come to his mercy. Justice meant the items would have to be paid for. But Mercy meant that someone else could step in and pay the remaining debt, after all he could do.

I cried because at that moment it solidified for me, in my heart, how much my Heavenly Father truly does love me and that because He loves me He sent His son. And not only did He do that, but he continues to bless me through "Angels among us" who step in from time to time to bring me that bag of chocolate chips or shovel my walk. And sometimes-- sometimes He lets me know He loves me by letting ME have to opportunity to pay it forward.

Truly, it was only Ten Dollars.

Pity-Party and the Prodigal Son

So, logically, I KNOW many things. Emotionally, I know what I feel. Most days, I choose to let logic win. But, once in a while doubt and fear creep in, mixed in with exhaustion and stress, I choose to let my emotions get the best of me. Sometimes, I choose to have myself a Pity Party. Well, the other night I was having just such a party. I ended up venting to someone via email, actually two different someones. I really just wanted to talk to someone who perhaps had been going through or already gone through what I have been feeling. However, I didn't think it would be very nice to call anyone in the middle of the night. Here's a compilation of the emails I sent. After re-reading it, I decided to Blog it because I use my blog as a journal of sorts. And I know that one day I will reread this and think, "Boy, was that lame!" or "wow! I've come a long way." So, pardon the rambling, as it was after 1 in the morning...


August 8, 2009

So its the middle of the night and no surprise that I cannot sleep. Having one of those down moments where all I seem to do is cry, toss, turn and cry some more. Pathetic, I know. I was in Nevada for our family reunion and I came home Thursday. I feel like the odd one out. I hate that feeling. I am supposed to be the strong one. I do not feel strong. I am someone the others are supposed to look up to. I am supposed to be a support system for my family. Being there amidst my sisters, I realized I was neither.

And I know this is rather haughty of me... But you know the story of the prodigal son? There are 2 sons. One is obedient and works hard. The other is not and does not and ends up straying from home. While he is gone, the good one continues to be good and work hard. Then the wayward one returns, and is showered by his father with love, gifts and affection, while the obedient son sits back and watches and thinks, "this is not fair! I was the good one!" Well, there are days in which I can relate to the obedient one. I did EVERYTHING I was supposed to do, or I tried, really hard. I had a few sisters that didn't always do what they were supposed to. They did "return to the fold" and now, like upon the return of the prodigal son, they have the very thing which I desire. They have the happy marriages and the good spouses. All while I sit back and watch and feel like crying to everyone, including the Lord at times, "but I was the good one!"

I realize we all have our trials; and it is through our trials that we become stronger, and enduring our trials is a way to define who God already knows us to be; like a refiner's fire.

But today, for this moment, I just need to cry. I want with desperation to be wanted. I want to love and be loved. I want to be held; not held back. I want to be able to not cry any more. I want to feel that somebody could love me for me, even if I am never better than what I am right now at this very moment.

On the one hand I feel like my heart is so full of love to give that it will burst. On the other hand it feels so empty, it might shatter. I realize in the grand scheme of things, my time, my "waiting period" if you will, has been but a small moment. But I also feel exhausted; tired of waiting. I want to see the end from the beginning. I want to know my place. I want to feel less lost and more found, and I don't know how else to do that without feeling love.


So, the next day, I am uploading family reunion pics to FB and one of my Friends From Back Home (FFBH) sees I am online. The dialogue goes somewhat like this:

FFBH: So... I've been thinking.
Me: Uh-oh...this doesn't sound good. Maybe I should just say sorry now?
FFBH: No need to apologize, lol.
Me: Whew! So, what have you been thinking about?
FFBH: the emails...
Me: Ohh snap! I forgot about those. Isn't there like a magic eraser button or something?
FFBH: No. Actually, I was quite impressed. You have this ability to identify how you are feeling and put it into words. A lot of what you wrote rang true for me, I just don't always write it down.
Me: ok...
FFBH: You realize that most of what we go through emotionally is what we allow ourselves to go through?
(Yeah, um, see, he's like this therapist... so he's good.)
Me: Interesting...I guess I can see that.
FFBH: It's amazing what we as humans actually put ourselves through.

So, as I thought about that all day, I decided I could not allow myself to go through certain feelings/drama/duress anymore; it was just too hard. And that if there was a question I felt was going unanswered, perhaps I wasn't asking the right question. Or perhaps I wasn't asking it direct enough. I decided to change that.

Also, the more I thought about the Prodigal Son and his "Not Fair" Brother, the more I realized this: The brother WAS rewarded. He was rewarded in that he already stood to gain all that his father had. He WAS rewarded in that he didn't have to go astray, live among fifth, and live in despair to know the truth. He didn't have to endure those same trials his brother did. He was already firm in his faith.

I am reminded time and time again through myriads of accounts in the scriptures that after the trials come the blessings. I know that I will be blessed. I know that I have ALREADY been blessed. I was blessed to be firm in my faith. I didn't HAVE to "hit rock bottom" and stray a little as perhaps some of my siblings, in order for me to recognize and come to know the truth. I ALREADY stand to gain all that my Father has in store for me. I am already rewarded in so many ways. And of course, it could ALWAYS be worse.

But sometimes, I suppose I just need a good cry! :)