Unattached

An old friend of mine once said, "Money is like dust; there's always more." This perspective prompted her to give everything in her purse, down to the last nickel, to whomever needed it at any given moment. She was wonderfully unattached to her "stuff," and thus she was quick to forfeit it for the sake of anyone who was lacking.

I love people like this. I love them so much I married one. I've watched Kenny literally give away the coat on his back on a wintry night. Before he and I said "I do," I told my mother that the only problem I could see us having in regard to money was that he would try to give it all away. I'm the frugal one, but he's taught me to loosen my grip on pretty much everything. A few weeks ago, I found a hundred-dollar bill in my car. "Let's send it to Raul in Mexico," I suggested. He didn't even look up from his iPhone. "OK." End of story.

One of the most rewarding things about being part of the Manna Cafe family is witnessing the generosity of others. Case in point: just this week we were told that one of our regulars, whom I'll call C, is down to one blanket because he's given everything else away. He lives outside. It's been 20 degrees at night. And yet he couldn't stand the thought of some other homeless man not having sufficient bedding.



One of our most faithful volunteers, Jennifer, is a young mother of six with few resources. One frigid night during Thursday Cafe, I noticed she had no gloves on, while I was wearing two pairs (I'm all about layers in the winter). So I gave her a pair. The next week, I overheard her talking to a woman. "Where are your gloves?" Jennifer asked. The woman had none. Jennifer immediately stripped those same gloves off her hands and handed them over. I was giddy with pride and affection. 'Atta girl.

Our homeless friend R started coming to Thursday Cafe months ago. Little by little, he went from "guest" to "volunteer," pitching in when we needed an extra hand. As he gained a sense of acceptance and family from Manna, he began to give back. After awhile, he knew how everything worked at a typical Cafe and could fill any spot. Now he's helping Kenny cook for Tuesday and Thursday Cafe. R lives in his vehicle, but he has made it his business to care for others. A few weeks ago, he made the comment to me that "we give coats away to all sorts of people, but one of our own has nothing but a T-shirt on." He was referring to Brody, a young man who has adopted Manna Cafe as the best place to hang out after school. For some reason, Brody refuses to wear a coat. But the fact that he might catch cold was unacceptable to R. I don't know where he got it, but by the next week he had a coat for Brody.

Then there's Jamee, another volunteer. She had just started plugging in to Manna this past fall when she came to help me out during a Saturday morning breakfast. As we were wrapping it up, breaking down the tent and tables, a man rode up on his bike. We'd distributed all the food; there was nothing left. Jamee jogged to her car, where she'd stashed a Subway sandwich and some extra goodies for later. "Here ya go," she said as she handed it to our latecomer.

I have a collection of stories like this--stories of people who will hand over whatever they have without hesitation. John the Baptist once suggested: "If you have two coats, give one away.... Do the same with your food" (Lk. 3:11, msg). The more you give away, the more God gives you to give away. I dare you to try Him on this.