My church is holding a Lord’s Acre event in November. The usual offering to Lord’s Acre, back when this was an agricultural community, was the proceeds from the sale of whatever was grown or grazed on a single acre of your property. Most of the residents these days are less likely to have arable land as a resource, so there is a second option: if you are giving other than produce, the item must be home made. I’m challenged beyond measure. I knit but you wouldn’t want anything I’ve made. I crochet but not in the last twenty years (not even sure where the hooks are). I cook, but do not can, and frankly just the thought of botulism scares the heck outta me, so probably never will.
After much prayer and careful deliberation I decided the only thing I could do was take an item and turn it into something else, but specifically something you could not pick, as is, off a store shelf. And so this week found me at wally world searching for kid size tee shirts. The plain white kind, suitable for adding my personally-designed, hand-crafted, iron-on logo on the front.
In the process of searching I found cellophane packs containing three tee shirts each, and at a fairly good price. Closer inspection of the packages, however, revealed that of the four hanging on the display, one had been opened and a single tee shirt removed, with the package then placed at the very back of the display where it had obviously gone completely unnoticed by the sales associates in that department, and for who knows how long.
Whoa!!!!
Remember my “breakfast at walmart” post? I can almost understand that early morning shopper, who fed her children slices from a loaf of bread and then closed up the package and put it back on the shelf. (Which I bought, by the way, and brought home and fed to the birds.) But, tee shirts? Seriously? Are there people in this community so desperately in need that they’re stealing clothing? I don’t understand such dire circumstances. My children didn’t have a lot as they were growing up. We were a military family, hubby gone most of the time defending against all enemies, and while it wasn’t exactly starvation wages, there was always way too much month left at the end of the money. I worked three jobs but there simply was not enough for luxuries, just bare necessities. I know there were many times my kids looked at what the other kids had and felt terribly deprived. But I never thought we were so bad off that I felt I had to resort to stealing food or clothes. Thank you, Jesus.
But, then, I’m from another generation, one that does not feel the world owes us anything other than an opportunity. A fair chance to work for what we get and get what we can afford to pay for right now, and after a hard day’s labor sleep peacefully at night. But, then, that’s me, living the ethic handed down from my parents. Just saying.
