I asked him what he wanted do with a million dollars and he listed a litany of things, like buying a ride-on-battery-powered kids’ jeep, and the big playground set sitting in the parking lot at Home Depot, and flying to a vacation at the beach. I said that those sounded like really cool fun things to do, and asked what he thought we should do if we had a million dollars. He thought for a minute and said “Well, I guess we could probably buy a lot of food for the food drive with it. And we could build some houses for people who don’t have houses.” We had a good discussion about how we have enough money for the things we need and some of the things we want, but not for all of the things we might want – and that’s okay. We talked about how some people don’t have enough money for even the things they need, and we should try to help them, because everyone should have the things they need.
And then, as he often does, Sprout floored me by saying, thoughtfully, “I guess that’s what Jesus meant when he said that it would be easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to go to heaven. If you’re rich, then you aren’t doing the right things with your money like taking care of others, huh? So maybe if we have enough money for the things we need then that’s what we should do with the rest of it.”
And as proud as I was of Sprout after our talk, it really is part of a larger mental struggle I’ve been having recently. We give in the usual ways – we buy food for the food pantry, put our money in the collection plate, SSHH is very involved with the charitable work the Knights of Columbus does, we try to generally do the right thing – but all of that is giving of our excess. And I struggle with how we can share our gifts – as a family – in a substantial, deeper way.
It’s a hard thing to contemplate when there are children involved. Sure, we could find some more money to give – but kids don’t just need food and clothes, they need fun, too, and while our fun is simple (camping in a state park instead of flying to Disneyworld), it’s important to keep that in their lives. And I don’t think the gift we’re meant to give, as a family, is necessarily financial. We live modestly on one income, and while we have enough, we track every penny.
Our family’s gift is in our close-knit-ness. It is the sheer joy of living that is there in our children. It is our love of learning and teaching each other. It is our faith. It is the kindness and acceptance that our children have for others, playing with anyone and everyone they meet on the playground, loving older kids and the tiniest babies alike. It is how the kids are each other’s best friends. It's in the love we have for each other and the way we are each other's cheerleaders.
As Sprout said, we're supposed to be sharing ourselves, our gifts, that which we hold most dear, with the least and poorest among us. We're supposed to be sharing of our substance, seeing Christ in our neighbor and welcoming him into our lives with hospitality.
But how on Earth does one “give of their substance” when their gifts are so intangible? It’s not as easy as “go volunteer” or “visit a nursing home” or (as I’ve been told, and which I found to be a real cop-out) “just be yourselves.” I’m continuing to think and pray about how our family, as a family, is called to give and serve, and how, as a family, we’re meant to live out our vocation. And I don’t have all the answers yet.
