Beg. Choose.

i know a man who challenges the phrase: "beggars can't be choosers." he actually proves the inverse. he has limited resources- very limited. he has no home. no car. no money. although i think he did just get a job. but the cynic in me whispers, not so quietly "we'll see how long he keeps it." and despite his lack of resources, he is served sandwiches made specifically for him, pork chops, cooked to his liking; he is picked up and dropped off, hand-delivered to his important destinations; he is rarely lacking a love-interest (whether they know it or not). he turns down gifts, or re-gifts items not up to his liking or standard of quality.

here i am, someone with a job, with a car, with a home, with money and the corresponding bills, responsibilities, and obligations. i feel myself balking at his audacity to be seemingly content with his state of being, to be choosy about the things he wants, accepts. i am constantly challenging myself towards humility; to want less; need less; asking for as little as possible. and here he is wanting, needing, asking, choosing, getting and to this "humble provider's" great surprise, inflated with a sense of entitlement. this beggar is a chooser. and its working for him.

we are perhaps both caught up in a dance of just wanting what we don't have. i am longing to be stripped of the ties that bind me to my things, my responsibilities, my life. i am begging for some proverbial freedom that i imagine is just outside my reach and promises me...well, i am not even sure what. i am constantly trying to peel away some kind of world-approved-entitlement that is liberally handed out to "humble", do-gooders."

he has some version of "freedom", is tied down by nothing, and yet is begging to be fitted with objects that harness him to some kind of identity other than "homeless", "beggar". He inflates himself with his own kind of entitlement because he is not able to obtain the worlds'. it has become the world's fault that he is where he is. wanting the way he is wanting. lacking those things he lacks.

perhaps the problem with a contrived humility is that it keeps me from asking as audaciously, shamelessly, loudly as he does for the things I really might need. and the problem with self-appointed entitlement is that leaves no room for the sense of "want" that drives us to demand more of ourselves.

and perhaps it is not such a bad thing to be a beggar and a chooser. but the hard part is learning how to beg with your whole heart for those things that draw you closer to God's glory and to accept nothing short of it. beg. choose. and make it work for you.

the business of dying

i am sleeping at a man's house that is dying. he used to be a patient of mine. he is days away from death and the family had requested me to come be an experienced body, a stable, gentle body that could help make trips to the bathroom, change sheets, and just generally be there. so i am here. and humbled. i watch quietly from a chair in his bedroom the family trickle in, hug, kiss, whisper, sit, cry, reminisce. i keep asking if i should leave. "do you want a moment alone?" and no one wants me to leave. "no, please stay. in case he needs anything, you are here." i am humbled again as i watch intimate encounters with this gentle man who is dying. i am a fly on the wall, but the invited, wanted fly. how is this happening? when there is no family or friends, i take up the visiting chair, slip my hand into his and just occupy this space with him.
"when did you get here?"
"seven."
"how long will you stay?"
"all night."
"how many nights?"
"however many you need."
he closes his eyes and nods. i am not certain i am who he thinks i am, but in this moment i feel as if i am exactly what he needs, and that, even if it is not at all true, feels amazing.
i am so humbled to be here at this moment, in this place, with these people. how did i get here?