Sips From the Saucer

Growing up my family never had much. Actually, in all honesty we had very little. 

Grocery shopping meant counting change.  As we walked down the aisles my job was to add the prices of the items we needed and correctly calculate the sales tax before we checked out at the register. This wasn’t a game that was meant to make shopping fun, this was a necessity. We might only have $20 to spend and couldn’t go over.  Some years Christmas presents were literally fished out of the county dumpster. In our case, one man’s trash was another child’s favorite Christmas gift. As a child I remember the visits to the pawn shop to leave an item and then returning after pay day to buy back the item hoping that it hadn’t been sold. I remember sitting in waiting areas with my younger brother while our parents signed loan applications at one finance company to pay the other finance company. To say money was tight was an understatement. 

As a teenager I moved in with my grandmother, her financial situation no less severe. She was a cancer survivor who was unable to work outside her home. She picked up a job packing panty hose out of our home for a small, local operation. Our living room was filled with boxes and packing supplies. I think back and can remember nights we sat together, watching TV and packing those panty hose. Sometimes she would get orders with knee highs that were to be placed in plastic balls. Those were my favorite orders to help with. It was like I was stuffing easter eggs — clear easter eggs for nice old ladies to buy and wear to Sunday church services with their pastel pant suits complete with shoulder pads. 

Most of these memories I have tucked way in the back of my brain, whether intentionally or subconsciously not thinking about them very often. That is until recently… 

In our ladies Bible study at church we are studying through the book of Ruth. During the teaching time on one of these Tuesday nights waves of memories came back from my childhood when a reference was made to describe the process of gleaning (Ruth ch. 2). The illustration so incredibly personal that I knew it was the Lord snapping me to attention. He had some things to say to me and He didn’t want me to miss it. Through a willing vessel, faithfully teaching God’s Word and sharing as the Holy Spirit directed, I was reminded of days spent with my grandmother picking up cans. Smelly, smashed, tossed out drink cans. 

Through the back roads of Stanly County, North Carolina my grandmother would drive. Slowly with the windows down, we would make our way through her route looking for cans that had been tossed out. Sometimes she would park and we would walk along the roads retrieving the discarded cans from ditches and overgrown brush. Other times she would drive especially slow and I would hop in and out of the car to grab isolated cans along our way. In parking lots we were always aware of the smooshed cans that had been thrown down. We had eyes to see and as a child it was like a game. At such a young age I could never have really understood the gravity of our situation. But looking back, as an adult, as a mother, the burden she carried was so heavy.

She was a modern day Ruth, heavy laden but willing to do what little she could. Collecting those cans that had been tossed out was our version of gleaning in fields for leftover grain. I’m so thankful that my grandmother gave me such an amazing example to follow, much of which I am realizing now in new and different ways. 

She was humble, determined, stubbornly independent, and so generous. Yes, generous. Regardless of how little we had, we always had enough to give to someone else who was in need. I think this was why I didn’t fully comprehend how poor we were because I always saw her willingness to give.

Looking into Scripture we learn that Ruth was intimately acquainted with hardship, to grief, to overwhelmingly depressing situations; but unlike her mother-in-law Naomi, Ruth didn’t allow the hopelessness to swallow her up. She found a way to do something. Something so small that it could have been misconceived as too little, not enough, not even worth it. Kind of like picking up a soda can that had been repeatedly ran over in a Walmart parking lot. But that is what my grandmother would do. One can here and another can there. Weekends spent riding those back roads, evenings spent searching ditches. Then crushing the cans and bagging them up to deliver to the recycling center. That was our grocery money, the money that kept a roof over our head and the power on.

The mysterious and powerful thing about Scripture is how profoundly it can speak into our hearts and become applicable to our lives in moments we aren’t even prepared to experience. I haven’t lost the things that Ruth and Naomi had lost. My pantry is stocked and financially my family is provided for. But a hopelessness that is consuming, a season that changes my very identity – I can understand and intimately relate to. Naomi returned to Bethlehem and had experienced such loss, such tragedy she couldn’t even be called by her name which meant pleasant, but instead wanted to be called Mara, “bitter.” 

As I have thought about my grandmother and her modern day gleaning it would be so fantastic if I could say, I feel like Ruth too.  Don’t we all want to read ourselves into that role? But in this story, I am Naomi. 

I’ve been wandering, not even wandering because that requires energy. I’ve been wasting away in a wasteland of depression. Confused. Overwhelmed. Blinded by defeat, buried by feelings of failure. Tied up by lies from the enemy and too weak to break free. And I look around and feel so much anger and frustration. 

I have NO reason to feel these feelings of depression and anxiety. They don’t make sense. I have a beautiful family, we are safe, our needs are provided for in abundance, I have a job but also get to stay home with my children, I am physically healthy, from the outside I am “too blessed to be stressed.” Jesus loves me, I am His and He is mine and therefore, these mental struggles should not be happening. And so then there enters guilt. So much guilt. 

It all brings me to the question I desperately want to answer: how do I stop being Naomi, bitter from a sad season that has lasted too long, and become like Ruth? Ruth who is ready and willing to do what is necessary, as little and as menial as it may be. Ruth who is able to resist all the reasons to stay in her circumstances. Ruth who is not held down by her feelings. Ruth who is willing to glean. 

What can I glean during this season? The grain that Ruth gleaned was for physical provision. Those cans my grandmother and I gathered were for financial provision. My situation is a mental and emotional deficiency. Altogether different, but very real.

The truth is I feel like one of those cans that we were searching for all those years ago. Tossed out, faded by the sun, crushed and buried in weeds. Nearly unrecognizable. 

But, my feelings aren’t truth. Just as we were searching out those cans, each one part of the provision we were needing, there is Someone searching for me. Behind the closed door, under the blankets, hidden in the darkness of depression and anxiety, My Jesus comes for me. He pulls me out, He sees my true identity, He declares my value and gives me purpose. 

A purpose even when the enemy whispers that I am a failure. A purpose even when I am discouraged by comparison. A purpose even when I don’t see things clearly.

Jesus is working all things for my good and His glory. When Ruth was completely unaware, Boaz noticed her in the fields. God was working. 

In my wasteland, when I have been insensitive to the Lord, when I have missed opportunities because I was too busy being bitter, God has been and will continue to be working. 

Yes, my deficit is mental and emotional in nature; but spiritual provision is available and sufficient. Promises have been proclaimed and my God is faithful. My lack will be supplied…in due time. 

In the meantime, as I wait I pray. I pray that if anyone who reads this relates to the swallowing feelings of depression, the oppression and constriction of anxiety that this be an encouragement to your weary heart and exhausted mind. You are not alone. Naomi was met by other women when she returned to Bethlehem and missed an opportunity because she was bitter, angry, sad, and hopeless. The city was stirred by her arrival and she had an audience. She used her voice in that moment to describe her pain and point to her misery. My misery doesn’t deserve the attention. My God does. He sustains. He encourages. He lifts up the brokenhearted and tenderly cares for those in need, no matter the nature of that need. I don’t want to waste my moment any more. This season, these moments, whatever stirring that happens or audience that comes let this moment, let my voice point to Jesus. 

If you need someone to walk beside you, listen, pray, sit in silence so you aren’t alone, dear friend I am here. If you are a fellow Naomi, let’s learn to let go of our bitterness and together glean what we can from Ruth’s story trusting the Lord for the harvest that is coming. A harvest of peace, of strength, and joy, sweet joy. Joy is coming.  

2 Corinthians 12:9 – but He has said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you [My lovingkindness and My mercy are more than enough—always available—regardless of the situation]; for [My] power is being perfected [and is completed and shows itself most effectively] in [your] weakness.” Therefore, I will all the more gladly boast in my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ [may completely enfold me and] may dwell in me. (Amplified Bible) 

Galatians 6:9 Let’s not become discouraged in doing good, for in due time we will reap, if we do not become weary. (NASB)