I don’t have much to give.
But I have a lot to do.
Do you know that place? The one where you have a list a mile long, pressure that is suffocating, responsibility that is frightening and a host of people asking for more?
Sure you do. If you’re a mom, this is what you call life.
Yesterday someone asked me to email them a link and I burst into tears. Apparently I found my breaking point and it all came crashing down with a recipe. A RECIPE, people.
My house is a pile of suitcases and lists and stressed out people. There have been ugly words this week, tears over lost things and grief over things we need to lose. We are the most unlikely crew to get on a plane at the end of the week and fly across the globe again to Kenya and spend our time serving these girls and their babies.
We don’t always know where our yes will lead us. And we don’t always feel qualified to follow.
I can’t help but think of a little boy in a Bible story from a long time ago. The one who said yes, I have a lunch to share in a mass of hungry people.
His basket was half empty or half full, depending on how you see baskets.
He didn’t have much.
His small offering wasn’t enough to meet the need. Sounds familiar.
But Jesus didn’t need the contents of his basket. He just need the little boy to offer it.
And today, with stacks of laundry teetering dangerously, arguing children, a sink full of dishes and loads of packing and decisions before me, I’m holding up my basket too.
It isn’t much, y’all.
My offering looks a lot like a couple of stale pieces of bread and left over fish.
Hardly worth giving.
But I’m holding up my half-empty basket to God. It’s filled with a desire to tell a story and a lot of fear and it’s all I’ve got. The world says it’s not enough to feed the mass, they say I’m not enough. And they are right.
But God is enough. He is strong where I am weak.
When God breaks my offering, He breaks me. I want to give my life away. Piece by piece. He blesses it. Multiplies my insignificant gift and makes it enough.
And maybe today you need a cup of coffee and a long break. A break from your half empty life, your not-good-enough offering. Your smallness. Your list that is too long, your messy house, your marriage that is half of what you want it to be, your bills that are too big, your calling that is too hard.
Listen, close. This is God’s truth whispered in your ear: God doesn’t want you to be a perfect mother or wife. He isn’t waiting for you to get your act together. He isn’t shaking His head at your pathetic basket offering. He simply wants you to offer what you have.
Because He will make it enough.