A friend recently organized a bag sale for families and students involved in a school that is located in an impoverished area of Fresno.
She came up with the idea after seeing a little boy wear cleats to school because he didn’t own another pair of shoes. You can read the rest of the story on her blog, Wild Olive.
Wanting to give parents/guardians dignity in being able to purchase needed items for their families, she chose to discount items significantly by charging $1.00 per bag rather than giving everything away.
The idea immediately struck a chord with me. I am not usually good at coming up with ideas like this on my own. But I loved her idea and really wanted to participate.
Knowing Jeff would be okay with any reasonable (and possibly even unreasonable) amount of stuff I found that we could give away, I started gathering items from around the house. Our friend specifically requested useful, necessary items, not things that would promote materialism, so I gathered up toothpaste, rolls of toilet paper, cereal, canned food, etc.
I set the items in the dining room so Jeff could veto anything if he wanted to. He didn’t.
As I was going through our drawers and cupboards, I came across a container of mayonnaise in the kitchen. I picked it up, and then put it back because the one in the fridge was nearly out. We needed this.
And then I realized what I had just done.
It was mayonnaise.
We aren’t rich, but we can afford to go to Target and buy another container of it, or just do without.
What was this sudden selfishness inside that drew the line of generosity at a jar of mayonnaise? What was my motivation in all of this? Why were we giving this stuff away? Was it out of pity or genuine care? Convenience or contribution? It does all ultimately belong to Him anyway. Right?
Seeing my selfishness appear in front of me, I felt disgusted, and I made sure that jar of mayonnaise made it into the donation pile.
Hot temperatures made transporting that little container more difficult than it should have been. Leaving it in our car, or hers – for hours – wasn’t an option, and making an extra drive for that single container seemed so silly. Everything else would have been easy if it weren’t for the mayonnaise. But as silly as it may have seemed at that point, I had to give it away. For some crazy reason, it had become too significant, and those minor obstacles could not speak as loudly as the conviction He put inside me. No matter what, we were going to give this jar of mayonnaise away to someone who actually needed it.
Since Jeff wasn’t even there while I was rummaging through our stuff, it was definitely my lesson to learn: It doesn’t matter what I am willing to give; it’s about what I hold back.