Giving what I can

I had coffee with a friend today. I delightful way to spend a rainy Saturday afternoon. We sat in Starbucks enjoying the crash of thunder and the brief displays of lightning. On of the myriad topics of conversation (I love how good conversations with good friends weave intricately from topic to topic-you just never know what you'll learn or where you'll end up, but it's always an amazing tapestry) was tithing. We didn't stay on the subject long, coming to agree that it was more about the heart than the math. I had to admit that, while I believe wholeheartedly in the practice of tithing, and despite making promises to myself to start to give again, I have been terribly negligent in the matter. Tomorrow is Sunday again. I am writing my cheque now, so there is no excuse tomorrow. (I always seem to forget come Sunday morning-and being passive-aggressive with God, and with yourself is always a bad idea) I do give what I can, if not financially-but the time has come to stand behind my convictions and to give back to God what He has given me. It's all His anyway. Looking back, I can see I have never gone without. Unasked, money and groceries, among other things, have been provided more often than I can count...I have been richly blessed, and I can only say thank you.

The Widow's Gift

In vain I try to ignore
my tattered robes
seem poorer still
against rich garments.
Heads held high
look to see who's watching-
heavy purses offered
in studied carelessness.
My head remains bent
I meet no one's eyes.
Two small coins

warm from my grasp

leave their impression on my palm.

Someone else tries to go

unnoticed but
I noticed him.

I hear him say
I have given more than

the others.

And when I look up
I see dusty carpenter's robe's
in the shadow of a crossbeam.