outside the margins

Do you stay inside the margins, Dear Partner? Are you one of those people, like me, who accepts that margins are there for a purpose, kinda like guardrals, in writing . . . or in life? Yep! That’s me! Doing my best to stay in the lines.

The first several decades of my life I lived, raised our kids, and taught in white bread land. Life in Wonder Bread land wasn’t bad, and for a long time it seemed to be the only choice. Not much exciting, not many risks. Then seemingly without warning, three things happened that turned my world on its ear.

Our daughter, Mary, has had a heart for others since preschool. One day she came home crying, but not about her own injury or mishap. Mary was distraught because her friend, Bridget, had “gotten in trouble.” It’s pretty much been the same ever since.

When Mary had the opportunity to go with godly women she admired to Kenya on a vision trip, she jumped at it. They visited homes for young women who had been raped and impregnated by insurgents, and subsequently abandoned by their families. Listening to their stories, their determination to hope, broke Mary’s heart for women much different than herself.

Yes, that’s Mary again, this time with her brother, James. He’s not a fan of having his picture taken, but did manage to pull out a show choir smile for a selfie with Sis.

James’s journey has included working with young adults in various settings. The most powerful settings were as counselor on youth group mission trips. After a trip to New York, James shared that a non-profit host told him the trips aren’t about kids helping with work, it’s about changing their perspectives.

One of the last mission trips James took was to a federal reservation for indigenous peoples. Being around an alcoholic uncle didn’t prepare him for widespread alcoholism, even among young teens. That was hard enough, he said, but what broke James’s heart was the lack of hope he saw and listened to as his small group of missionaries shared meals with residents.

One at a time, God was changing all of us: He sent me to “the hood.” My first semester teaching in an urban school district, I cried driving to and from school every day. I kept asking God what did I do so wrong to have ended up there. And then something inside me opened up, and I realized I’d fallen in love with students unlike any I’d ever been around. (A week later I was punched in the jaw while trying to break up a fight.)

God is so good, Dear Partner! By the time I retired from the school district ten years later, the students had patiently, and kindly, taught me so much about living in the big wide world. They showed me compassion, determination, nurturing, resilience and a great more than I ever learned in white bread land.

While studying the gospel of Matthew recently, a pattern began to emerge. Jesus had no problem stepping outside the margins of His time and culture. It’s almost like He went out of His way to interact with people different than His human flesh. And the gospel(s) make it clear that Jesus expected no less from His apostles, who frequently tried to run off any marginalized people who encroached upon the Master’s gospel of love ministry.

Do any of these scenarios ring a bell? (What’s different about the last person listed?)

My brother, Buddy, died as a homeless alcoholic. His journey, my journey, the journeys of our kids were God’s training ground, the foundation of what Buddy Bag Project, Inc. is all about. God was prying open my eyes and heart to see and care about people not like me. In doing so, He also created new spaces to fill with His grace and blessings.

During an early Sunday morning visit to the City Union Mission Family Center this summer, Tom and I were blessed out of our socks by a smiling guest’s question, “Are you the ones who bring us Jesus bags?” Absolutely! That’s one of our favorite ways that Buddy Bag Project strives to be the hands and heart of Jesus. (BTW “Sunday Bags” have now been rebranded to “Jesus Bags.”)

Everyone has a story, as diverse and yet the same, as stars in the sky. I love to hear people’s stories! I’d love to hear your story and why you choose to be a part of Buddy Bag Project. You can write it in the comments, or share through email (avwalters55@gmail.com). I promise not to share without your permission (and never specific details).

Prayers of thanksgving and blessing as you and God continue writing your story!