Hobbit-Sense at OneFreeGarden.com

I have to say, aside from a very sweet candy packet sent to me in high school (at a time when I was completely unable to “get it” and hence completely missed the fact that a guy liked me… oops), I’ve never gotten a real Valentine’s Day gift, so, no, this isn’t a “V-Day” post…

Rather, this is about one of “my” beggars.  Remember back in October, when I posted somewhat regularly (sorry!), and talked about my decision to give to beggars?  Well, I can gladly say I’ve kept up with it, and changed the rules around a bit.  I have some “regulars” that I give to, those who I see frequently enough that we recognise each other.  A couple of these people beg at my church.  One of them often begs at my metro stop.

In the beginning, because I saw her so frequently, I tried to give to the lady at the metro stop once or twice a week, figuring I couldn’t give more.  But around Christmas, I gave everybody extra, and I started giving the lady at my metro stop something every time.  My “limits” were only small hurdles I’d built for myself.

She’s always in the same coat.  She has a worn-looking crutch, and a worn-looking face, but it’s always made up a little bit, giving her a look oddly cheery despite her usual implacable sad face.  For over a month, I gave to her every time I saw her, and she smiled at me, and, like many beggars, thanked me profusely and, I think, asked God to bless me.  Then, a couple weeks ago, she actually told me to stop giving to her- I couldn’t understand it exactly, but I think she was saying something like, “I’m fine, you don’t have to give all the time.”

When you’ve seem somebody with a bandaged foot begging on the barely sheltered stairway of your metro station at midnight, well, it stays with you.  So I left off for about a week, before giving her another small bill and saying, “Sometimes it’s possible.”

I was going up the stairs after work and saw her tonight, and I was debating whether I should give tonight or not when she stopped me.  Tonight, she’s selling some roses, too, 100 roubles for 5 (they don’t do dozens here).  She told me to take some, so I picked up a pack of red ones, and she told me to take some white ones, too.  For 200 rubles to help someone who in some sense is nearly a friend, well, it’s not much.

But when I reached for my wallet, she told me not to pay.  I thanked her a lot, and as I started to leave she asked me my name and I asked hers.  Please remember Masha in your prayers.

There are many things I could say, but it comes down to the love of God touching us through each other.  She’s given more than I have, I who have plenty, and I can never repay her.  Ten roses sit in a jar on my dresser because the seed of generosity God planted in me grew in both our hearts.  I couldn’t keep my hard face on for the walk home– that face I use because everyone here seems to wear one.  I simply cradled the flowers and smiled to myself.

The idea of a garden flows throughout literature and popular metaphor for a reason.  It seems to me that God is ever looking to plant a new Eden in our hearts.  I am usually a poor gardener, but in this one small corner of it, I can see the true Gardener’s work, and it is good.

Dawn noted on my last post that I’d basically upped the ante for God- and I think that’s an accurate way to put it.  But I guess it’s good to keep in mind that in a poker game, you keep betting until everyone’s even.  Ironically enough, I even found mention of a “poker priest” who’ll be on a televised competition, trying to win money for his parish.

I have to say, I really enjoy watching Texas Hold’em, which is a rare game where it’s definitely more about the betting– much more about the betting than the cards.  You don’t play the cards in Hold’em:  you play the people.  So I’ve watched and gotten all the catch phrases down- “Pocket deuces” and “he flopped trips!”  and calling Kings “cowboys” and such.  And in case you haven’t watched Celebrity Poker Showdown (the one you actually learn the most from) or the World Series of Poker, here’s a quick primer on how it goes.

There are some obligatory bets in Hold’em – a bigger one and a smaller one (half the bigger one)- called “blinds.”  Then those who haven’t put in the largest amount in have three options: “fold” and be out of the round, spending nothing;  ”call” and put in enough to match the big blind;  ”raise” by putting in more money.  The trick of the raise is that after that, everyone has to put in enough to match it or else fold.  And players can “re-raise.”

And that’s exactly what I think has been happening with me, Ten Prayers, and God.

Today I dawdled and delayed a bit by reading more in Orthodoxy (GKC) and Ten Prayers (DeStefano) before realising that, yes, I did actually have to shower and get dressed (I was in fact in my pajamas quite late- I like them and had nowhere to go yet) and go to Mass.  I hit chapter 8 today, well started it- at 1:40 I finally came to my senses (English Mass is at 3- well there’s one at 9 but I’d have to leave at about 8:10 to get there and that’s not going to happen right now).

I had to pull myself out of Ten Prayers in Chapter 8:  ”Sometimes Being Smart Just Isn’t Enough; God, Give Me Wisdom.”  DeStefano was just telling me about asking God to help with decisions.  This is an area in which I can use a lot of encouragement.

I think it comes down to being afraid of what God will say.  What if he wants me to be a “holy beggar” or something?  What if he wants me to do something completely different from what I thought?  What if he tells me and I don’t know how to listen?  Actually, the last one is a biggie for me, because the thing I miss most from my childhood is the closeness I felt with him, where I was sure I heard his voice.  I don’t regret growing up, but I do regret growing foolish and unable to hear him.  How will I know what he wants?  And will I be able to give it?  I know logically and through faith God won’t give more than I can handle, but that hasn’t stopped the fear.  I guess that’s why any time he has a big announcement, it starts with, “Don’t be afraid.”  In one sense, I trust God quite a lot– because of my closeness as a child, I have been blessed with certainty of his existence.  In the senses that matter more in everyday life… I’m a real skeptic.

But I’ve been smart enough, I think, to be skeptical about my own plans as well.  I just don’t know that they’re what he wants, so I don’t have complete peace with them.  So I figured I ought to pray that prayer.  I almost “dashed it off” quickly as I read and then hopped in the shower.  I figured I’d already gone in on the whole charitable giving thing, and that if I really missed that closeness, prayer was the only way to get it back.  So I said it.

And God saw my bet, and re-raised me.

As I mentioned in a Quick Take a couple weeks back, I was asked to lector at Mass the second Sunday I attended, after which I also said, I’ll be here til July, so you’ll see me around.  Well, every Sunday I’ve been since then I’ve been asked to lector.  Not only have I been asked to lector, but I’ve been given the biggest portion- first reading plus the psalm response.  Today I only got there with about 5-8 minutes to spare, and figured they’d have already gotten someone.  But I guess they were hoping I’d show because I sat down and immediately was handed the lectionary.  The fellow who is basically the acolyte and does things like assign readings and get Communion counts told me they love it when I read.  I’m one of the few English speakers there from a country where it’s the sole dominant language so it’s easier for me to be expressive I think, plus I figured if I’m reading it I should read it with expression.  As long as no one else is getting shafted, I’m happy to help, even though a bit nervous when I step up there.

Given that I’m eight hours ahead of EST, it’s entirely possible that some folks haven’t gone to Mass or service if you’re in a Protestant church that follows the calendar of readings, so here’s a little liturgical “spoiler alert.”

I looked down at the book, and I almost had tears running down my cheeks– my eyes were suffused with them, and are again now even thinking about it.  Here is the first reading:

I prayed, and prudence was given me,

I pleaded, and the spirit of wisdom came to me.

I preferred her to scepter and throne,

and deemed riches nothing in comparison with her,

nor did I liken any precious gem to her;

because all gold, in view of her, is a little sand,

and before her, silver is to be accounted mire.

Beyond health and comeliness I loved her,

and I chose to have her rather than the light,

because the splendor of her never yields to sleep.

Yet all good things together came to me in her company,

and countless riches at her hands.

– Wisdom (!) 7:7-11

Okay, okay, I get it.  That’s a dose of wisdom, a “trust me” and an implied “be not afraid” all in one, right when I asked for wisdom.  I don’t get amazed by “coincidences” — I am constantly amazed by how detailed God is, and how, if you’re looking, he’s really hitting you over the head (lovingly, of course) all the time– he just knows everything so well that he stands behind you encouraging you, and is the ground beneath you so you have a good path, and is the star before you to follow, and when you finally do listen, he’s already in the place he’s been leading you to, ready to welcome you in.  It’s mind blowing, because it’s so incredible- and so incredibly loving.

I’ve been shuffling my way along on this wisdom thing for a long time.  I think God even helped the priest out with the homily today just for me, the one about the rich man who doesn’t want to give up all his stuff.  He said something like, ‘It’s not enough to stay out of trouble;  you have to go beyond that.’  Giving God something to outdo, and now asking him for wisdom– and it seems like that line is just for me.

You know what I didn’t mention about betting in poker?  At any point in the game, any player who’s still got his hand can go “all in” — and anyone who wants to remain in the game has to go all in, too.  I think the reason I was folding so many hands was because I’ve been afraid of going all in.  I hope that the prayers I’ve been praying, “God, outdo me in generosity,” “God, give me courage,” “God, give me wisdom,” and “Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner,” will prepare me to go all in.

I sure hope so– because I’m finally starting to want it again.

-theRosyGardener

Updated only to add categories and correct a typo in which I accidentally claimed I’d been asked to lecture at church– thankfully for both my pride and the very lives of anyone potentially subjected to a lecture by me, I was asked to lector.  And all my family will commence laughing now….

I haven’t been as dedicated in reading this week, but I have been pondering what I have been reading.  As I mentioned, per Jen F.’s recommendation I got Ten Prayers God Always Says Yes To.  The only thing consistent about my prayer life is how haphazard it is, so I’ve been trying to get in rosaries or the Jesus prayer when I think of it.  But this little book has been a gem, not only because it’s got a lot of truth and good pointers, but also because it’s made me think about my values.

More than thinking about them, it’s got me thinking about how I live them.  I’ve always been sensible and I’ve always been big-hearted, I think.  And in many instances, these two things have been at odds.  Sometimes, the heart wins, and sometimes, the head does.  Of course, sense and compassion aren’t inherently contradictory– it’s just that I often find myself pulled between them.

The heart winning has had its problems– I can tell you it does not mean one jot in terms of holiness in and of itself.  But that would take another whole post.  The head winning has saved my bacon a number of times, but there has been one area where it has always left me heartsick.

The prayer from that book is this:  God, outdo me in generosity.

I like to think of myself as a generous person.  I am I think rather generous with time and talents.  But giving money I’m not usually so generous.  And it bugs me.  One is purely selfish, not giving at church or giving little.  If a disaster happens, or I read about some charity needing help, I’m there– but when it’s personal, I am always in two minds- or rather I’m stuck between head and heart in a cycle of charitable heartburn.

Basically, I listened to all the arguments about giving to strangers on the street.

And I never gave anything to strangers on the street.

And I always regretted it.

But this prayer got me thinking.  God will always answer it, but I didn’t want to ask– because there was nothing to outdo, atleast monetarily.  I let money concerns for myself, which could easily budget in a few rubles for other people, outweigh the heart that walks past a beggar and cries a little.

I had grand ideas– okay, so maybe beggars are drunkards, and if you give them money they’ll buy booze.  Well, one day, thought I as a little girl, I’ll go around with McDonald’s money so I know it’ll be for food.  And the adult never has.  One day, I’ll give them rides to homeless shelters or work with the beggars.  And the adult never has.  Now, I’m still early 20s, so I’m not counting myself out, but I miss the little girl my parents were terrified would be walked all over trying to be friends with everyone– the little girl who said “Hi!” to every person she passed in the mall.

And here in Moscow, it’s worse.  Yes, there are drinking problems, of course.  But the beggars are largely old women and disabled people, some on the metro, some old women in the streets prostrating and crossing themselves.  And for the past few weeks I’ve walked right by them into the church I attend, where I put a few rubles in the collection basket and felt like a hypocrite.

And that feeling, at the same time as reading this book, and the old worries about it percolating around my brain, may have been the greatest gift I’ve gotten this year.

God, outdo me in generosity.

I figured, if I wanted to really be able to say that prayer honestly, I needed to do something.  I don’t make tons as a teacher, and I haven’t mastered budgeting (although I’ve done a good job of not spending everything).  My main issue at this point is how hard it is to get change, actually.  I know that I really cannot afford to give lots of money.  But I decided I had to do something.

I’m not going to lie, it’s kind of scary.  I always seem to be picked out by the more forceful beggars- if five people are walking down a street, I’m the one who is actually approached and asked.  Throw in that I don’t really know the functional language of begging, and it’s pretty jarring.  And old man chastised me on my street a week before this decision for not giving him money, not realising I was actually pretty startled (he crossed the street to ask me).  I don’t know why I get singled out, but I think it was probably a grace I didn’t know I was getting.

I didn’t give that old man any money, just like I didn’t give the crippled girl any money, or the man with no legs who rides on my metro line on a plank with four wheels any money, or the few beggars outside church shortly before my Mass starts.

I thought Moscow would be a tough town to be a beggar in.  And I guess I was wrong- because all of a sudden, where I hadn’t seen anyone giving money, I started seeing people in the metro, which seems so… distant- there is no cameraderie in the kind you sometimes get on the T in Boston really– I started seeing them pull out money, often bills (as opposed to coins which are only up to 5 rubles).

And I did too for the crippled girl, that second time I saw her, with my bag from freakin’ Ikea.

It wasn’t an overall change, but it was something.  I still didn’t give anything to the old lady crossing herself I passed searching for a metro.  I was unsure how to handle all people begging underground, too.

And then on Sunday it was enough.  I couldn’t walk into God’s house and leave his children outside without atleast doing something- and I couldn’t pray that prayer, either, even though I wanted to.  When I walked in, there was a begging bag sitting there, and a crippled man standing. I wasn’t sure what was his, so I put some coins into both.  On the way out, there were two old women begging.  I gave each of them 10 rubles, not much but there being so many beggars I figured it made the most sense– I can’t go past them anymore.

One of them called for God to bless me.  The other told me she had a bad leg and needed lots of money.  I certainly felt better, even with feeling bad about not giving more– and better yet, I didn’t feel resentful of the fact that the second had peeked into my wallet as I got out the bill and seen I had more cash on me.

I gave away money to 2 or 3 more people this week.  I haven’t get given to my ‘local’ beggars who are usually at my metro stop, because I think I can’t afford to do it every time I see them so I will space it out.  It will also depend of course on what bills I have on me- I can’t afford to give away the bigger bills, and if people are stacked up in a row I can’t do that for everyone.

Essentially, I’m still a long ways from the widow’s mite– but I’ve finally given God something to outdo.

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Hmmm.. that turned out longer and more rambling than anticipated.. I think I needed to do it.  Too bad that now I really need to go to bed!  Thanks, any who may be reading.

-Rosy