The Blessing of Receiving

I've been in the kitchen all day preparing food for some dear friends. The wife has been in the hospital and we've been trying to help out as much as possible. Her husband keeps telling me that we don't need to bother, and that they can take care of themselves, etc. This reminds me of something that happened to me a few years ago, that taught me about the blessing of receiving and the danger of robbing someone of their blessing in giving.

Several years ago, my family housed a Mexican family. The son, Roberto, needed life-saving heart surgery, and my parents were helping them secure visas, charity surgery, and other necessary paperwork and aid. His mother, Miriam, is a few years older than I am and we immediately hit it off.

One evening, Miriam and I were at the grocery store. We were talking in Spanish (well, she was, I was practicing my Spanish), and a guy overheard us. He was about our age, and walked up to us and struck up a conversation. He had heard us speaking Spanish and asked me if Miriam was an exchange student. I told him no, then proceeded to tell him why she and her family were in the States, and how my family was involved.

He was struck by this, and gave me the typical response that we had been getting whenever anyone heard our story, "oh, that is so great that y'all are helping" and "you will really be blessed by this." That sort of comment.

We walked on, continuing out shopping and I didn't give it another thought. Several aisles later, I looked up and saw this guy again. No biggie. I mean, we were all shopping at the same grocery store, right?

Then something happened that I will never forget. Ever.

He walked right up to me and extended his hand. There was something in it.

"I'm just so taken by your story and by what your family is doing. I really want to be a part of this," he said, extending his hand further.

I looked down. He was giving me money! Nobody gave me money. I didn't need anyone's help. We were doing just fine, we had this, helping others was our "thing."

I said something to the effect of, "oh, no, I can't possibly accept this."

"Please," he responded. "I really do want to help."

I paused and looked at him, and then it hit me.

I receive such a blessing from helping others. For being the one who provides and cares. And yet here I was, denying someone else of receiving his blessing for giving. And to me, that was sinful, convicting, and incredibly humbling.

I smiled. I extended my hand and took the money.

"Thank you," I said. "I really appreciate it."

"No," he said. "Thank you for what you are doing."

And he was being sincere.

He walked off and I looked down at the money in my hand. I thought it was about $20, but as I opened the bills, I discovered that it was actually $100! What a blessing. For both him and me.

But it was more than that. I learned how important it is to let others bless me. I learned how to receive and in turn, allow others to receive the blessing of giving.

I have no idea who that guy was. I never saw him again and I can't even remember his face. But I like to think that he went home and thought a long time about what happened at the grocery store that evening. I like to think that maybe he got online and researched some volunteer opportunities. Maybe he even went to church that next Sunday and asked about a mission trip. But regardless of all that, if I had blown him off and refused his gift, he may have been discouraged to extend his hand the next time he saw someone in need.

And I never would have been blessed by this beautiful, humbling lesson.