It may not be readily apparent why that unintelligent gobbling would help joy well up in my core, but the turkey is much more than a turkey. It is a gift that reminds me that my heart has much more room to grow and that giving from a deep place is a joy-producing thing, even if, especially if, it has required much sacrifice.
A few weeks ago our friend, Camille came up the path riding his bike and grinning, with a large turkey under one arm.
"This is for you, Miss", he said, offering to hand me the turkey.
What does one do when being gifted a a live turkey? I tried to offer to pay for it, to which his smile fell away, and he insisted it was a gift.
This is the second time I have had the honor of receiving fowl as an act of gratitude, so I really should come up with a plan or at least an appropriate response to being handed a large bird, but as before, I faltered a bit, not really knowing how to hold this monstrosity of feathers. I asked Camille to hold the bird while I went to check if it could be kept in the chicken coop until it's life would be ended. So to the coop it went and I said my thank you's to a sweet teenage boy, obviously so pleased with his "cado" to me.
I did not realize until later that day the turkey gift was no small thing. A turkey costs around 300 Haitian dollars to purchase. 300 Haitian dollars is equivalent to around $30 US dollars. This may not sound like a great deal of money to those of us from Western economies, but here, where a grown man sometimes earns $5.00 (US) a day, a turkey is luxury item. A family may buy (or raise) a turkey for eating once a year at Christmas or New Year's but many families in our community would think of this as an unrealistic dream.
When Camille works on Saturdays, he is paid well. He receives 60 HT which he then needs to pay for moto transportation to and from school in Cap Haitian, where he stays during the week, and to pay for noon or supper meals at 10 HT a meal. Without supplemental income, he may not get three meals a day.
What I know then, is that for some time, instead of eating, he saved his earnings to buy me a turkey. Me. A woman who has more food available in her pantry than he can imagine eating in 3 months. Me. A women who struggles with being overweight because of excess consumption and the inability to use disciple to change my eating habits. Me. A woman who carelessly throws away the whole tomato if part of it is bad. Me, who could actually pay for his entire life's needs with very little sacrifice, with very little adjustment, with very little effort at all. Me.
I hid away in my room as I felt the warmth of tears filling my eyes; tears from mixed emotions of gratitude for what the gift meant, tears of shame for my own selfishness, tears of realization.
The boys and I have been reading through the gospels in our morning school time, and we recently read the account of the rich young man who comes to Jesus asking what he needs to do to have eternal life. He's doing so many things right, he breaks no major commands, but he goes away sad, because when it comes down to it, he is so tied to his stuff, he can't do what Jesus tells him to. Jesus says to him, "sell all you own, give it away to the poor, and follow me." He doesn't, and he walks away in the knowledge that he is choosing his wealth over God.
How wretched am I to be that man! I want to believe he is someone else; someone who has much more wealth than I, but I am looking face to face with the reality that I am he.
I have heard many times that those of us in the western world are among the wealthiest in the entire world. According to www.richlist.com, if you earn $25,000 a year you are in the top 2% of the wealthiest people in the world. If you earn $50,000 a year, you are in the top .31 percent richest in the world. And if you earn $100,000 a year, you are in the top .08 richest people in. the. world.
This thought remained very distant to me before moving to Haiti. The reality is that the face of poverty remained an intangible, and so unimportant construct in my life. It's not that I did not care at all, but I lived as if that knowledge bore no consequence on my choices. I bought what I wanted, ate what I wanted, gave what I wanted because I had earned it and had the right to decide what to do with my own money, all the while ignoring the fact that I am the one Jesus is confronting about my wealth.
What would it be like for me to give with such abandon that I would take the absolute very last money I have and buy something extraordinary for someone I needed to show gratitude toward? And what if that action brought such immense joy that it spilled out all over my face and and made my eyes sparkle with delight… what beauty might be in that place that I may never know or experience because my wealth keeps me from it? What if…
What if for Christmas this year, instead of asking for the ________ I give towards putting a roof on the house of a friend who has lived with sewn-together table clothes trying to keep out the tropical rains? What sweetness and fellowship might be there that can't be found in a beautiful package under the tree?
What if instead of spending hours in lines waiting for great deals, I find a way to serve in my community or build relationships with those who are hurting from the burden and brokenness of poverty in their lives.
What if…
The turkey is now in the fridge awaiting it's rub-down. Tomorrow I will bake it lovingly, eat it with great joy, and share it with great satisfaction because that turkey is more than a turkey. It is a reminder that gifts and lessons come in places we do not expect them and that I have much more room for growth if I only accept Jesus' invitation to join him in a place of deep generosity.
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| Elijah and "Camille" |
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| "Camille" reading with Natalie and Rose |
powerful post. We deal with the same situation here. Incredible sacrificial hospitality shown to us (including gifts of live chickens)
ReplyDeleteThank you Anthony - so humbling!
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