Saturday, June 25, 2011

Sweet Potatoes

I pluck the gold-tinted can of sweet potatoes from the shelf labeled "$.94" and I think of that paper on the counter with the little boy holding a sweet potato...

I shuffle through aisles, weave through baskets, and reach my hand to take what will be mine, mine and my children's and my husband's for the week. Just for the week. The numbers are $99.89 and relief consumes since I've conquered my budget for the week. Just for the week. Waiting to pay behind me are impatient, annoyed faces. We wait, though we feel we shouldn't. I think of the boy. How long does he wait? The fans feet above me bathe myself in a chill. Do I dare begrudge them when others so far away have no chance to be uncomfortably cold?

I had left it on the counter for a day; the pull toward his smile, his black, glistening eyes nearly magnetic. The numbers were $38 for this food and for tools to tend it and for supplies to grow it.

Hours went by and budgets were planned, and those shiny black eyes slipped silently into the trash can. And my heart is broken at my lack of faith, my selfish "I wish I had" 's. And I know I will forget this and yet again be one who complains of too much air or a meal I'm not in the mood for--but I pray that God keeps my heart soft, that when precious faces who need things that I haul away come to mind or mailbox, I will see my own chocolate brown-eyed boy on that page and say yes.
Peace of Christ to you,


  1. It's hard, isn't it, to want to help all in need but also to try to provide for our own at a time where money is not always plentiful. When we can help out financially we will. When we can't offer our money we mustn't feel bad but we can offer our prayers instead.