All that we offer

When I make beef vegetable soup, I am incapable of making the right amount for our family of four. We always end up with extra.

So, after I made a pot of soup this week, I texted my sister to see if she’d like some for her, her husband, and their six children. Treasa wrote back enthusiastically.

I filled a container with soup, and after we finished dinner, my husband and I got in the car to make the 15-minute drive to my sister’s house.

On the way, I thought of how aunts and uncles should arrive with treats—something sweet, perhaps. We were arriving with…soup with lots of veggies in it. That seemed kind of blah.

Still, soup is something—and we hadn’t seen the kids in a while.

As we pulled up outside their house, we could see five of our nieces and nephews were busy in the yard. They had decorated the sidewalk with chalk and were playing together. As we walked up the striped steps, our 7-year-old twin nephews started playing catch with a baseball.

They were all excited to see the ever-popular Uncle John, and the children chattered away while I tried to guess aloud what they had drawn on the sidewalk and watched the baseball sail over our heads.

As the group hurried through the front door to go inside, no one asked what we had brought in our bag. The children were too busy piling onto the couch to listen to their uncle read a story.

I handed off the soup to my brother-in-law, and I chatted with him and my sister while the children played and talked with Uncle John. I’m sure their house is never dull, but it was certainly full of excitement. And it wasn’t because of the soup.

Soon enough, we said goodbye and headed home. As we drove away, I thought about how happy they were just to see us—even though we didn’t show up with ice cream or chocolate or anything exciting from a child’s perspective. (They did put a plug in for their sister’s ninth birthday next week, which was a gift to at least one disorganized aunt who had forgotten it was April.)

We came with little to offer, just as us, and they were completely delighted—waiting outside to greet us, and ready to welcome us into their home. (To be clear, they were mostly excited to see Uncle John.)

It made me think about how often we feel we have very little to offer. We worry we are not prepared or not adequate or not enough in some way. But we are often just enough. We offer more than we think. And the people we encounter might be ready to greet us just as we are.

As we continue through Lent, it can be easy to feel that we are falling short. And we may well be. I certainly am. But Jesus’ love for us is greater than we can imagine. He sees our sins and shortcomings and loves us completely.

He doesn’t care whether we’ve brought gifts or burdens or what seems like nothing at all. He’s ready to receive us fully and love us as we are.

During these last weeks of Lent, maybe Jesus simply wants us to be present, listening to him, walking with him, and being open to his plan in our lives.

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