It was awful, actually.
We wrestled with some hard questions, some specific, some general:
GENERAL QUESTIONS:
Who decides who receives donations?
Are any of us worthy?
What if trying to live a life like Jesus makes you too tired to deal?
SPECIFIC QUESTIONS:
If Women's Group gets donations of warm clothes, do we share with men in the community, or just women?
Do we allow men in the room? Ever?
Do women who need a safe, sanctuary space once a week for one hour get to ask that men not be allowed in the room during that hour?
If someone has money to buy alcohol and drugs on the street, do they get any warm clothes from the donation pile? Or do they go to the local shop and use their money for a warm jacket and skip buying the drugs and alcohol?
Do we get to make rules about who gets what donation?
Should hygiene kits only be given to the women who attend Group and stay the whole hour?
With clothing donations, should we say you can only pick out one thing for someone else, to practice "giving back"?
Do you get a coat first to warm yourself, so then you can move forward in giving a coat to someone else? Dorothy Day said that if you have two coats, you stole one. What do we do with that?
Since Women's Group is a religious, spiritual, seek-the-truth-in-scripture Group, I read and re-read our devotional after all the arguing about who receives donations and how do you organize compassion.
I also had been sketching dream catchers...and dreams came up twice in the devotional from Jesus Calling.
It seems...Jesus said to give to everyone.
Love all the time.
Repeat compassion.
Trust God.
Over and over.
As we prepare for his birthday, I wish he were here to help us hand out coats, calm our fears and cease our judgments about who gets what and when.
He said all the time, everyone.
Next Tuesday we are making Elderberry Syrup to share with others (boost immunity this season) and passing out coats and hygiene kits. I hope we sing a carol and Happy Birthday and grow from our hard questions this past Tuesday.
All the time, everyone...
