Never let your right hand know what your left hand is doing,

My mother always said that to me.  I do not know how many times that has popped into my head in my lifetime.  When I was younger and sometimes thought of doing something that I knew was wrong, that would run through my mind.  Try as I might, I could never make it work.  I fell in with a girl who shoplifted.  Sadly, her mother had taught her how.  I thought that was sad, but here was a mother who explained that the stores had lots of money, lots of products and they would never miss just one, or two.  I never asked my mother if this was right or wrong, but I did reason that if my right hand did not know what my left hand was doing that it was alright.  And her mother was an adult and adults knew stuff.

Sadly, her father also made homebrew and stored it in the cellar with the door wide open.  I think I was probably 16 at the time.  It was after I had lived with my grandma so I did not feel as connected to my family as I probably should have.  Grandma had died.  Great Grandma had moved to Southwest Kansas with her daughter and I was just sort of cut adrift.  So I was easy prey for someone who showed me a little attention.  My friends father always went to Hutch to gamble on the weekends, so the cellar was free game for whatever we wanted to do, which was to get drunk.  Get drunk and steal stuff.  I probably spent a year or so in that rut before I decided that it was a dead end party.

Time passed and I married, became a mother, divorced, remarried, and divorced several more times.  Some  where along the years I decided to pull my head out of my ass and become a decent human being.  I also became independent and learned to think for myself.  Stealing was wrong.  Drinking to oblivion was wrong.  Lying was wrong.  Hard work and honesty became a mantra that I was comfortable with and rather enjoyed.  I had always known about God and was baptized when I was 12 years old.  Looking back over my life I decided that I actually needed to wash all the sin away again.  So I did.

Now, the secrets I keep are just between me and God and they are mostly good ones.  I sometimes hand  money to someone just because.  My car is usually full of stuff to take to the migrant center.  When I buy groceries I purchase extra for the food banks around town.  I like to visit with the homeless.  I would bring them home with me, but I am afraid my kids would commit me.  I keep secrets from myself.  I just think that "but for the grace of God, there goes me."

My life is good.  My finances are fairly stable and I am mostly happy.  Sometimes I wonder just where this will all end.  Hopefully I can just not wake up some morning.  I do not want to get old and senile.  I do not want to have my diaper changed by one of my kids, but I guess what ever will be will be.  You know, the "Que sera, sera" thing.

As I set here at my desk, I have a cat on my lap, a dog at my feet and a cup of cold coffee to sip from.  Yep, life is good!  

Never let your right hand know what your left hand is doing.

Words from my mother.  And taken as a sentence sound kind of cryptic, but explained by my mother, they made perfect sense.  Most of us are giving people and will share what we have with those who have less, or those who are in need.  At least I like to think that is the case.

Most of you also know that I would give you the shirt right off my back if I thought you needed it and I like to think you would return the favor and I am sure you would!  So what is this all about anyway?  What does it have to do with not letting one hand know what the other hand is doing?  I will tell you.  It has come to my attention that some people are watching their hands a little to closely and maybe not letting go of what they give to another.  I do not want to become one of those people.  As an example, if I meet a man on the street and he is cold, I will give him my coat.  At that point I will walk away.  I could hide around the corner to see if he maybe sells it and then goes and buys a beer, but I would never do that.  I have given it to him and it is his to do with as he sees fit.  Ideally, he will use it to keep warm which was my original intent.

Maybe he has a friend who needs the coat more than he does.  Maybe he will wad it up and set on it so he does not get in the mud.  Who knows the fate of the coat at this point.  What I am trying to say is that as Christians we are often moved to do things and give things.  When this happens, we must let them go, and walk away.  I recently learned of an instance where someone had given something and it was sold.  The giver was hurt that this had happened.  Oft times when gifts are given to charities they are then sold and the cash used for other things, like gas bills, groceries, or medicine.  Maybe school supplies for migrant children.  Maybe that shawl you knitted and gave to the nursing home and pictured a little old lady keeping warm on a cold night ended up in a silent auction.  Or maybe the director took it across town to someone who was freezing because the heat was turned off in their apartment.  Or maybe someone who did not need it at all, sold it and did go buy beer with it! 

I guess what I am trying to say is this:  If you give it away, then give it away.  Let it go.  We have to do our part in trying to make the world a better place, but we can not do it all.  If you give something to someone, it is not yours to control.  Let it go.  And if you think that person abused your gift, then next time give to someone  that you think will do better with your offerings.  You could go to the person who offended you and talk to them.  "I gave you such and such and I think it went to some place I did not intend it to go."  Let them tell you what happened, but you should know that discussing it with anyone who will listen is only casting doubt on yourself.  And that is where the not letting one hand know what the other is doing comes into play. 

Take your gift.  Lay it on the alter, or place it in someone else's hand and walk away.  It is not yours anymore.  Your heart is not burdened with worldly goods.  Forget about it and move on to the next person who is in need and you will be wiser for it.

Just some thoughts this morning.

Where have you gone, dear David?

David Stevens

7/19/1947 - 9/14/2017

Rest in peace, my little friend.

I do not remember when I met David.  Time means very little in my world and marking time is not something I do well.  I know I met him when I came to First Congregational  from Christ Congregational and I know it has been 10 years or so.  The important thing is that I met him and he made an impact on my life in a way few men have.  David was special.

David was special in more ways then one.  He was a big man, but I can not say how big as the wheel chair he was confined to did not allow one to measure.  I know his hands were big and he loved his cowboy hat.  I do not know how many years he was in the chair, I just know I never seen him without it.

He lived in a home with other people and he liked to help them.  I would like to say I met him when he came to our church, but I am not sure he wasn't there before me.  At our church we have a microphone which we use to let the congregants make announcements or report on someone in need of prayer.  David loved that mic!  Any Sunday he was in church he would pick up the microphone and tell us that his parents and everyone were in heaven, but he had a new family and that was the members of this church.  We were his family now.  He would tell of his former church where he used to be a greeter, but now he was a greeter in this church and that made him very happy.  He was an usher and while he could not manipulate the wheelchair on his own, he smiled as broad as any man and enjoyed being a greeter in his church!

And you know what?  That made me very happy.  David was a simple man, with simple needs and he always put others before himself and isn't that what it is all about anyway?  A lesser man would have been sad to be confined to a wheel chair and to be taken care of everyday.  A lesser man would have perhaps rebelled at his lot in life.  But not David!  David started counting the days until his next birthday on the day after his birthday.  He looked forward to that more than Christmas, I think.

I am sure that David is up there (wherever up there is ) telling God that he used to be a greeter at this church and that we are his family.  He is probably explaining to his mother and father that since they had gone, he had found a new family and they should not feel bad because he did that because he missed them so much.  And I bet that is one happy reunion around that dinner table, but David, if you are listening, know that while we miss you, and our church will always have an empty place on that back row, we are very happy that you are where you are and we want to thank you for taking care of us for the very short time we had you.

Rest in peace our little friend and know that you were loved and you are sorely missed, but we are happy you are free at last!