We are in the process of moving into a new rental house. The new house is very close to the shelter where we work and we will save a lot of time and money with less traveling.
We worked through a realtor to find this place and he speaks no English. Our Spanish is getting better but he speaks really fast and it is hard to pick up everything he says. In many of our conversations about what still needed to be done to the house to get it ready, we talked about doors for the kitchen cabinets. It was our understanding that wooden doors would be put on.
And then we moved in and met the owner of the house. She speaks slower and our conversations are much more comprehensive. When she told me that there would be no kitchen cabinets I did not even attempt to hide my sadness or shock. She said it was stylish and I told her I didn't want people seeing all the stuff in my cabinets. I think she felt sorry for me because she eventually agreed to have doors put on the cabinets.
In the meanwhile, as we wait for our contractor to measure all the cabinets and find doors, the whole world can see everything in my kitchen: dishes, spices, silverware (there are no drawers either), sandwich bags.
Trying to have a positive attitude as we wait, a few days ago as I walked past the pantry and saw all of our food on display like a grocery store (yes, I have all the items lined up straight, facing forward) this is the thought that ran through my mind:
"Well, it is nice that I can just stand in one spot and see all of my options for breakfast. I don't have to open one door and then another. I know I have yogurt in the fridge and bananas on the counter. But from right here I can see granola bars, oats, pop tarts (do not judge - it's the first time I've bought them in 4 years!), toast, peanut but-UGH!!!"
That was the moment it hit me. The previous week we'd had a mission team from Indiana here with us in Guatemala. We had built 2 homes in an extremely poor community, we'd spent several days painting and renovating the shelter where we work, and on the team's last day we served soup to a community of people living next to a dump.
None of the people we ministered to have choices for their meals. In fact, most of them don't have the assurance of a meal at all. If they are offered beans for breakfast, they eat it. There is no questioning what might taste good for that particular meal. They are just grateful to have something to eat.
Ugh again. You can imagine the shame I felt at worrying about cabinet doors or laundry room doors or electricity or paint that is evenly applied or window curtains.
I am ashamed at how quickly I forget the people I am here to serve and get wrapped up in my own ridiculous desires.
God used those stupid cabinet doors to remind me of the rich life He has given me and to give me even more compassion for the people He has sent us here to love.
What choices do you have the privilege to make every day? What hides behind your cabinet doors?
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