This weekend my floors were covered in crayon, my walls were covered in poop, my toilet was filled with an entire rolls’ with of paper. I signed up for a diet. I fretted about clutter in the house and stressed about dishes.

Today I went shopping. I met a man with no teeth. He struggled to ask me for help. I never carry cash, but I offered to buy him something. I’m not sure what he said, but I got the impression that if I bought him something I’d get it wrong and he might not have been welcome in the store. I told him that if he could wait, I’d get him some change at the register. He said a lot of things but I’m not sure what, but I was pretty sure he’d wait. In the store as I loaded up my cart with more than enough food for 5 people, I began to hurt inside. I have chosen not to feel guilty about the situation God has given me, but I definitely am guilty of taking it for granted and not being grateful. This man, just as much a hand made beautiful creation of God, died for by Jesus, has no place to call home and can’t even eat a proper meal, and here am I fussing about diets and a floor colored with loving pictures from my kids. I gave him some money on my way out and gave him a hug. I doubt he gets hugged much and I wanted him to know that he was loved.My box I was going to put groceries in blew away rather quickly thanks to a very windy day, and he went and got it for me and offered to put my cart away, and I thanked him and told him that God loved him. He told he I didn’t know how much I’d helped him and he started to cry and turned away.

I started to cry then too cause I don’t understand why God does things the way He does.

I drove on to my second stop, because I’m so blessed with material wealth that I get to decide to go to two places just for food. And I passed by a terribly skinny woman holding a small sign. I parked and walked over to her. She seemed terribly shy and her sign said that she was disabled and looking for work. I asked if I could get her something from Walmart and she acted like maybe there was something but she couldn’t ask for help. She said not to get her anything, but I went ahead and got her a little money. I hate throwing money at problems, I know it doesn’t do much, but sometimes it helps and I want to help. I told her I couldn’t help her get a job, but maybe it would help get until she found one. She kept asking if I was sure, and I told her that God has taken care of me and I wanted to help take care of her. She told me she used to be a nurse and got really sick, lost over 100lbs and was trying to get onto disability. She has such a beautiful smile. When I gave her a hug, she started to cry. I don’t understand. I don’t know why God does what He does, why He allows people to go through what they do. Her name is Sherri. Why her? Why not me?

Part of me hates how blessed I am compared to them. But material wealth and physical health are such surface-y things. What really matters is our souls. And God I pray so much that He saves their souls and uses these times in their lives for His glory, that it matters long term, that they aren’t suffering for nothing. I feel like I’m the rich man, seeing Lazarus by my gatepost, tossing him a crumb from my table, and all I can think is that I hope in the next life that he is comforted.

I cried the whole way home, and I’m not even sure why. Maybe because no one else is crying for them and someone needs to.