First Monday blessing: for the poor

Until second grade, my family lived in a converted two-and-a-half car garage.

The kitchen was small and adequate, as were the just-as-small living and dining rooms. I believe the bathroom was under the stairs leading up to a pitched-roof attic. My brother’s bed and mine were just to the right at the top of the stairs, separated by a rack of hanging clothes. My parents’ bed was just opposite ours in the communal bedroom.

Oddly enough one of my clearest memories of being truly concerned about my family was not about economic status or stability. My dad was in the Army Reserves and regularly went to drills or some such at The Armory. When it was stormy or bitter cold, I was uneasy the whole time he was gone. I worried about storms in the dark and my dad and honestly didn’t give money much of a thought.

Sure, I knew we were not wealthy. I had a single Sunday dress and probably recognized that other girls wore a variety of outfits rather than just the one. But, then again, I was in first grade.

As I grew up, the Christmas present disparities between me and my, let’s say, “comfortable” family friends became more pronounced. Yeah, I got a little green as time went by, but, as I remember, I told myself that my parents were just thrifty and did not want to spoil their children.

I recall…

• On the rare “out for Sunday dinner” splurge, we ordered three meals for the four of us and shared.
• Camping was the vacation of choice. Staying in a roadside motel during a Midwest tornado alert felt like the ultimate luxury.
• Dairy Queen sole offering could have been 10 cent cones, for all we knew.
• I went to a state school on a teacher’s scholarship, bought the most basic car when I started student teaching, lived at home for a long time, and finally started squeaking by on my own when my Kelly Girl job turned permanent.

Even though I gradually understood how economically difficult it was for my parents for all those years, it wasn’t until many years later I found out we, in fact, weren’t really poor.

No, we may have been financially challenged. We may have had a lot less than many of our friends and neighbors. We may have wanted for more just to fit in a little better and make breathing just a little easier.

But according to Ruby K. Payne, a woman who knew volumes about poverty and its effect on education, we were not poor.

• We didn’t know when the local drug store threw out OtC medicine with expired dates.
• We didn’t have to figure out how to live without electricity or a phone.
• We didn’t seek out churches that provided food and shelter.
• We didn’t have to hide our car so it wouldn’t be seen by the repo man.
• We didn’t use payday lenders.

No. We weren’t poor.

Now, we didn’t belong to a private club, collect original art, or have a favorite restaurant in at least 3 different countries.

But we did talk about college, we took piano lessons and planned vacations, and we had checking and savings accounts.

No, we weren’t poor. My parents didn’t worry about my brother and me surviving childhood. We didn’t fear losing our home, our access to food, or medical support. We may have lived paycheck to paycheck, but we knew how to stretch each one far enough to meet our needs.

But I know people living close to us now that experience all the burdens of poverty. And I’ll bet it’s exhausting. I’ll bet it feeds anxiety and frustration and easily gives in to anger and depression.

And Jesus told us straight up to care for them – the poor.

No, my lovelies. It wasn’t a suggestion. It was an expectation. No exceptions. No caveats.

And it’s not complicated.

He told us to care for the poor, feed the hungry, and clothe the needy. (Matthew 25:35)

So, on this, the first Monday, I pray a blessing over the poor who live near and far away. I pray a blessing of peace and comfort. I pray that the support Tim and I and others offer is used to make lives better, more stable, and more hopeful.

And I pray that those who enjoy great wealth will feel the pull of generosity instead of the allure of “more.” I pray a blessing over them that they will follow the words of the Savior and feel the warmth of compassion as they care for others.

I pray, on this first Monday, a blessing of hope for everyone.

And as always, I pray for you…

Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash