on receiving generosity. .
When David left for America last week in the most last minute transatlantic flight ever, it took about 15 minutes before I got the first text offering to help with the girls.
By 10pm, I had been invited over for dinner 4 of the 8 nights he was gone, by the next morning 6 of them, and by Monday, all 8. I didn’t make dinner once while David was gone (which reflects both everyone’s care for us, and how scared they are I will serve my children ice cream for dinner).
Ima covered me for nursery the next day and offered multiple times to switch my calls. Shelly wrote as soon as she saw David was in the air, and when I asked if she could help get the girls most requested American food items, she responded with a 10 pounds of gummies, 48 bags of cheez-its and a beautiful flowy red dress thrown in for me. Alli and Chip rearranged their schedules to get David from the airport and greeted him with blueberries and unwavering hospitality. My parents offered to rearrange their schedules as well in case David needed extra support.
Judy picked up Belle and treated her to milkshakes and taught her about Snapchat filters. The girls fed Buddy and packed their lunches and walked to school most mornings together to give me a few more minutes to get ready for the hospital. I received so many offers for help, I could not possibly take advantage of them all.
David made it home early Friday morning, after 5/6 of his total flights were delayed or missed, and collapsed into bed before he could even take a shower. I made lunch, and we caught up on little and big things. He fixed our broken internet, and I started a full night of call, my first since he had left.
I made it through call, but about 2 am this morning I was hit hard with the virus that has been going around Kijabe. I made it through rounds, but as soon as I got home realized I couldn’t stand, couldn’t think, couldn’t eat without feeling like I would fall over.
I tried to get up around 12, and David asked what medicine I needed. I protested and tried to wander downstairs. He gently directed me back to bed, and laughed when I tried to complete a sentence. “I know,” he chuckled, “you are not used to me being around.” He ran to our friends, got medicine, and brought me water and marshmallows and made sure I slept.
I like to think that I am self-sufficient and independent, but I spent the week relying on others. I was grateful not just for the help, but that I was not surprised it came. For, as we learn to see how He loves us, I have come to expect this generosity as a billowing buffer in times of crisis. Beautiful freedom comes in receiving this radical generosity that is extended time and time again.