Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: GENEROUS (10/31/19)
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TITLE: Open-handed | Previous Challenge Entry
By Jack Taylor
11/02/19 -
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Only last year she fed her chickens with the plenty her husband generously provided from his role as a mason. Then the slip and fall. The accident had come without warning. Her barren womb grieved with the emptiness and loneliness of the barren rooms in her home. The chickens had served the mourners. “May the Almighty bless you,” rolled over her ears but it didn’t refill the pen or the pantry.
A walk warmed her spirit as she pondered the wild-flowers her Creator had generously splashed across the meadow and the hills outside the village. She greeted her neighbors with a smile and assured them that all was well.
The prize-winning roses in her garden stood proudly in the sun as she contemplated the generosity and beauty of Hashem. Two young girls skipped up to her and extended their hugs. “Hannah, our mother is sick and we would like to give her flowers. Can we have yours?”
It was the only beauty she possessed but without hesitation she nodded her permission. Even when the girls ripped the flowers out by the roots, she said nothing. It was a blessing to give.
“Always trust Hashem!” her Zechariah had prompted. “No matter what, you can’t out-give the Lord.”
The jar of coins, Zechariah had carefully squirreled away, provided a cold comfort week after week as she purchased bread and made her trek to donate coins to the offering. At first, the tradition had taken little sacrifice. No one noticed the act as she came and went week after week.
The jar grew emptier.
Resting on her straw mat one morning she rehearsed the story of Elisha and the widow whose oil had never run dry. The woman had poured out the last of what she had for the prophet of God. It was an act of trust and hope. More than anything she needed both trust and hope.
As the jar grew emptier, she removed the few changes of clothing she possessed and made her way to the market. One tunic was enough for someone who lived alone. She had few needs. Hannah bartered the best she could but it was clear the vendors weren’t about to take a loss for the sake of a widow’s well-being.
The coins from the clothes kept her fed for another few weeks as the rain and the cold seeped into her home. The table and chairs were eagerly accepted by the carpenter for a few more coins. The extra bowls and spoons from her wedding provided the last margin in her possessions.
Each morning she bent in prayer then set herself on a stump near the village square and hugged the children who found her there. “Now, you do whatever your mother and father tell you. You forgive your brother, you love your mother, you share whatever you have.”
“Yes, Hannah!” The little ones replied. “We love you.”
The wrestling inside her increased as the coins diminished. No one seemed to notice the life of a widow who gave no evidence of poverty. She washed her single tunic and foraged for scraps of edible foods. Hashem had scattered numerous edibles in his forest and by-ways. Mushrooms, nuts, tubers, greens and fruits had their seasons and she quietly learned to discern to live on what the earth provided.
One morning, she lifted her jar and shook it. There were two pennies It was all she had. Today was the day designated for offerings but if she gave what she had it meant there would be nothing for bread. With a twist in her gut she poured out the pennies. “Hashem, you know,” she said.
With a skip in her step, she made her way to the Temple. The rabbi Yeshua was there teaching his disciples but they were busy. She watched the religious leaders dropping bags of money into the box, making sure everyone had noticed their acts of generosity.
When a lull in givers had arrived, she quickly slipped up to the box and dropped in her two pennies. Turning away, she looked up to see the smile and nod of Yeshua. “Thank you,” he said.
She bowed and went home.
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