From Bags To Riches

.......... For me, I mean.

Last night, Michele agreed to let me use her home as a crack house bag depot for people to come and pick up their goods. We had a lovely stack of them, and one by one, these "strangers" made their way up to the door and I let them in (secretly pretending that it was me who lived in this gorgeous chunk of brick and wood and tin ceilings....)

I think I met some of the nicest people on the face of the earth! (actually, more nice people, since I already have met quite a number...)

All the "nutrients" that were sucked out of me last week from many manic hours at the sewing machine began to seep back into my bones as we talked about Darfur, making changes in our own corners of the world, bag mania, fabric, and buttons. These women just shone with something life-giving and it spilled out of them as we discussed balance and joy and creativity.

I left richer.
One person can't do a whole lot to change a horrific reality. But something magical starts to happen when we stand behind and beside one another in support and active concern.

I heard a story some years back during a particularily yucky, stressful, impoverished portion of my life. It was about turnips. The somebody in this anecdote had very little except a whole lot of debt and uncertainty, and a particularly proliferous crop of turnips. He decided that he needed to give. And all he had to give were turnips, so he turned his head around and began to give what he had, and began to think less about what he needed.

I don't remember the end of the story, but I don't think the end matters that much. I think the point is that when we get our heads out of our bums, look around at some way to plant something, or grow something, or give something.... There are crops of joy to be had. Not that you plant them with the intent of it being all about you, and what you might stand to gain out of it. You may struggle with that along the way, but you remember that life is community. We need one another. We need to listen to that still, small voice of God. And since he used a tonne of creativity and made everyone differently, you really can't read a book of someone else's ideas of who you should be in this world. Who were you made to be? And what portions of that can you give away?

And if it's turnips, that's a whole lot more than nothing.

A big shout-out to the Darfur supporters. You fed me something yummier than turnips last night (though I must say, mashed turnips are pretty yummy...) And maybe you didn't know it.
But this is what I mean about community.

Out of the overflow of your hearts, you filled mine back up.
So, with a tummy full of turnips, and a heart restored, I think I'm going to go sew something...