Five Quarters and a Tide Detergent Pod

Give What I Have

It's not how much we give but how much love we put into giving.

— Mother Teresa

Pay for someone's laundry.

It was a fleeting thought, something I could easily push past, ignore, and forget about as I got on with the rest of my morning. But I had been praying again recently. I say "again" because it had been far too long since prayer was a regular part of my day. It was one of those things I easily buried beneath the unscrubbed dishes, stinky diapers, and dirty laundry. I was like, "Prayer? Ain't nobody got time for that!"

I had my moments of being a prayer warrior princess. Like that time when I was giving birth to Baby and cried, "Just get it out!" And like that other time when we were going to move back to the United States from Guatemala and we begged God to give Husband a job so we wouldn't have to live with my parents forever. I think that prayer was, Just get us out!

But prayer was becoming more than a desperate cry for help. Recently I had been praying for some inspiration from the Lord, for ways I could be more alert to His voice, for inventiveness in how I could share His love with our neighbors.

I believe when people pray, the Lord answers. Sometimes, like the prophet Elijah, I expect God to answer in the great and powerful winds, the earthquakes, and the fires. But sometimes God chooses to speak in gentle whispers (1 Kings 19:11-13).

Gentle whispers, like God saying:

You are wonderfully made (Ps. 139:14).

I will take care of you (Ps. 55:22).

Trust Me (Prov. 3:5).

Remain in Me (John 15:4).

Follow Me (Matt. 4:19).

I love you (John 3:16).

Share My love with others (Mark 12:31).

Give to others as I gave to you (Matt. 10:8).

His tender voice can be heard in Scripture, in prayer, in the wise words of a friend, and in those beautifully ordinary moments of the day that surprise me like an affectionate kiss on the cheek. God doesn't always shout or post billboards or share Facebook memes like I wish He would, but He speaks.

Pay for someone's laundry.

My Monday morning had been extremely ordinary until that point. So far I had vacuumed Sunday's crumbs, washed Sunday's dishes, and planned what I was going to cook for Monday night's dinner. Next was laundry. I had just returned from a nine-day trip to Guatemala and come home to the realization that almost everything made of fabric in our apartment was due for a good washing. I gathered the blue mesh bag bursting at the seams with our dirty laundry with one hand, straddled Baby on my hip with the other, and dragged everything down two flights of stairs to the laundry room. It was while I was dragging and heaving and sweating that this idea brushed my mind.

Pay for someone's laundry.

Now, random thoughts cross my mind all the time. I think it is part of being an introvert. If I'm not going to talk to other people, I might as well talk to myself. (Am I right, Self?) Most of the time I just brush it off and go about my day like I'm not crazy, but this thought was different. I decided to stop ignoring and start listening.

Pay for someone's laundry.

Nothing fancy, nothing life changing, nothing — ironically — worth writing a book about. Nothing terrifyingly reckless for my introverted self to do, like speaking words out loud to a stranger. Nothing deeply sacrificial, except donating quarters, of course. It was only twenty-five cents, but now that we lived in an apartment building with coin laundry, trying to find quarters was like trying to mine for diamonds in the parking lot.

While my mountain of laundry was in the dryer, I scribbled on an obnoxiously yellow sticky note, Dear Neighbor, Please enjoy a free load of laundry. I prayed for you this morning, and I hope you feel Christ's love throughout your day. Simple. Encouraging. Not too creepy, I hoped.

Next, I needed quarters. After scrounging through the coin jar, my wallet, the car, and the couch, I found only five.

Well, that's extremely lame, I thought. Five measly quarters? Enough to fill only one of the two laundry machines and neither of the dryers? Why am I even bothering?

Give what you have.

The second whisper, and my first lesson. Then my adult temper tantrum. But, Lord, I wanted to be able to give more; I wanted to give enough for two laundry machines and one dryer. I wanted to give fourteen quarters, not five! And I wanted to be able to do it all by myself!

Give what you have.

Sometimes I think things like, If I can't do it all by myself, then I'm not going to do it at all. I let either my pride or my insecurities get in the way of giving. But the reality is, I don't have enough of anything to do it "all by myself." I'm only expected to do my part, to give what I have, no shame or pride, no matter how humble or glamorous it is. God has equipped me with exactly what I need to accomplish His will. He can still do great things with whatever I am able to offer up in worship.

I think about that boy and his five loaves of bread and two fish (Matt. 14:13-21). What if he hadn't brought them forward when Jesus had a...