On foolish generosity
Y’all I’m so tired, because this weekend we had TWO fundraisers. The first was for my beloved barn, our therapeutic riding center. It’s a shindig that we spend all year thinking about and preparing for – it takes months to collect all the auction and silent auction items, it takes more than a week to spiff up our riding arena to host a twinkle-lighted gourmet dinner and actually pull it off.
The instructors (who are typically in leggings or jeans and ballcaps) wear dresses and mascara, and we usually get a brief introduction during the presentation. This year, to our surprise, we got a several-minute-long standing ovation. We are not shy; we use big voices to get the attention of disinterested teenagers and distracted toddlers, our jobs require us to offer leadership to both horses and people. But we were all a little abashed by this – such a show of generosity, hope and love. I blinked back tears – this was our community telling us they’d heard the stories of the depressed teenager and the autistic child and the stroke victim, that they knew why we work so hard, why we care so much. I only wish that we’d gotten to share that moment with our volunteers, who deserve a standing ovation of their own.
The second fundraiser was for our dear friends who are in the process of baby-making, not in the fun way, but in the medical-procedure-out-of-the-country way (which I suppose might be fun, not sure). Watching them bravely ask for their hearts’ desire, and watching as friends and family came around to say, “of course” was a gift in itself. There was laughter and hope and lots of heartfelt toasting, even the rain gave us reprieve from cold and gloom, a sign that darkness doesn’t always win, that lurking stormclouds are no reason not to dance.
Friends, I feel so encouraged. My heart isn’t very brave, you see – I often believe the misleading tale of my own insignificance, that my desires, my story doesn’t really matter, that my dreams are silly or foolish. I can be stingy and uptight, I worry that no one will take care of me if I don’t take care of myself. But I watched two very different communities show up for two very different causes, and it was silly and foolish how generous they were. It was lavish and extravagant grace, not sensible, exacting, careful help. It wasn’t logical, it wasn’t precise. It was mayhem of kindness, a chaotic, loud, overly generous, flamboyant benevolence, in the kind of community that says, “we’re here for you, even if you think you’ve got it yourself.”
What a gift to see so much grace offered so freely, and a privilege to get to be part of it.
“Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. Therefore, as we have opportunity, let us do good to all people…” Galatians 6:9-10