Do you remember the Bible story of the widow's mite? Well, when I was little, I thought it was about the widow's mice. I recently heard a sermon about the widow's mite and it made me realize that my childhood version of the story, albeit inaccurate, does actually hold some water. I want to tell you my story about the widow's mice. My grown up self has added certain details that wouldn't have crossed my childhood self's mind. Humor me.
Her name was Haya. No, she's never named in Scripture, but everyone has a name. Haya...it means "life" or "living." So full of life, so very young and now, left so very alone to raise their two little boys...Ari and Samuel The sickness came quickly and right behind it, came death. Would the boys remember their daddy? They were so very young! How long would her memory of him last, her beloved Jacob? How soon would she forget the sound of his voice, the way his hair always curled around the edge of his face; the way her heart skipped a beat when he came into sight? It had been almost a year and still, grappling with her station as "widow" was nearly more than she could bear.
No sense in complaining, though. What would complaining do but give her boys a very poor example of dealing with the uncertainties of life? She was all they had; they were all she had. No family nearby to help. She had to move forward and with God's help, she knew she would. What, then, was she to do about the sacrificial offering required at temple? She had no remaining lambs or goats. Caring for Jacob's illness had required every bit of everything they had and that wasn't much! No doves, no pigeons. No money to buy one. There was barely money to buy food to keep all three of them fed. She often shared her portion with her little ones to make sure they were satisfied. She knew that God would provide for all their needs...even this one. No sense in losing sleep over a question she couldn't answer. Morning would be here soon. Keeping up with Ari and Samuel was no easy task when sleep deprived! With one of the boys on each side of her, Haya closed her eyes and fell asleep.
The new day dawned and Haya woke with a lightness in her spirit that she hadn't felt since losing Jacob. She and the boys went through what had become their morning routine and before long, it was time to go to the synagogue. She still had no idea about her sacrifice. The sound of her boys laughing with joyful abandon shook her from her thoughts. Upon investigation, Haya discovered the source of their laughter was a pair of field mice, who had fallen into one of her clay jars and couldn't get out. They were running laps around the bottom of the jar and climbing on each other to no avail. Haya spent a moment enjoying the show and then picked up the jug to carry the poor, little creatures outside. Before she could get to the door, she stopped and looked at the mice. Her mother had always told her God always answers our prayers, but sometimes the answers are not what we expected. Her mother also told her that she must always ask God to help her see the answers with His eyes and not her own. Two seemingly perfect mice just happen to find themselves trapped at the bottom of one of her clay jars...on the day when an animal sacrifice is required. Instead of turning the mice back into the outdoors, Haya put them into a small wooden box and closed the lid. She swallowed against the nervousness that had gripped her throat. She gathered up the boys and they made their way toward the synagogue.
So many people! So much noise! Each family had their turn to present their animal to the priests. Haya noticed a man sitting on the temple steps; not far from where the people made their offerings. Around him were a group of men and they seemed to hang on every word this man said. There was something about his eyes that drew her to him. She'd never seen him before, but felt like she knew him; like he knew her. It was her turn to present her offering and when the priest held up Haya's mice, the noise around her ceased. She felt her face flush with shame and she informed the priest it was all she had; there was nothing else to give. People around her began to laugh and then the man who'd been sitting with his friends came up to her. The laughing stopped without him saying a word. He motioned to one of the men in his group and whispered something into his ear and the second man ran from the steps. So many questions about this man and his friends were careening through Haya's heart and somehow, she was sure that he knew everything she was thinking. He knelt down to speak to Ari and Samuel. The boys fell into this stranger's embrace and greeted him with the smiles they used to give Jacob. Who was this man? As quickly as he had run away, the second man reappeared...with the most beautiful lamb Haya had ever seen. The stranger took the lamb from his friend and gave it to the priest. He then turned to Haya and spoke to her in a voice that drove out every bit of fear from Haya's heart. "Daughter, your faith has not gone unseen. Be at peace." Then he walked away and the group of men followed after him.
Like I said, this story was born out of my childish misunderstanding. It was 1970 something. I had no idea what a mite was; my mind heard mice and drew a picture of the widow standing before the priest, dangling two little mice by their tails. A mite is 1/64th of a denari...a full denari was a day's wage. Looking at it that way, the mice were probably worth all of a mite. In my story, it was all she had. In the Bible's story, it was all she had. And it probably took all that she had to give all that she had. So it then becomes the widow's might. Mite, mice or might, the story boils down to one thing....if we will give God our best...no matter how insignificant it may seem to the world, He will always honor it and use it for His glory.
Even if it's the retelling of misunderstood Bible story from the childhood of a dreamer who probably needed to pay closer attention to what the teacher was actually saying.
Her name was Haya. No, she's never named in Scripture, but everyone has a name. Haya...it means "life" or "living." So full of life, so very young and now, left so very alone to raise their two little boys...Ari and Samuel The sickness came quickly and right behind it, came death. Would the boys remember their daddy? They were so very young! How long would her memory of him last, her beloved Jacob? How soon would she forget the sound of his voice, the way his hair always curled around the edge of his face; the way her heart skipped a beat when he came into sight? It had been almost a year and still, grappling with her station as "widow" was nearly more than she could bear.
No sense in complaining, though. What would complaining do but give her boys a very poor example of dealing with the uncertainties of life? She was all they had; they were all she had. No family nearby to help. She had to move forward and with God's help, she knew she would. What, then, was she to do about the sacrificial offering required at temple? She had no remaining lambs or goats. Caring for Jacob's illness had required every bit of everything they had and that wasn't much! No doves, no pigeons. No money to buy one. There was barely money to buy food to keep all three of them fed. She often shared her portion with her little ones to make sure they were satisfied. She knew that God would provide for all their needs...even this one. No sense in losing sleep over a question she couldn't answer. Morning would be here soon. Keeping up with Ari and Samuel was no easy task when sleep deprived! With one of the boys on each side of her, Haya closed her eyes and fell asleep.
The new day dawned and Haya woke with a lightness in her spirit that she hadn't felt since losing Jacob. She and the boys went through what had become their morning routine and before long, it was time to go to the synagogue. She still had no idea about her sacrifice. The sound of her boys laughing with joyful abandon shook her from her thoughts. Upon investigation, Haya discovered the source of their laughter was a pair of field mice, who had fallen into one of her clay jars and couldn't get out. They were running laps around the bottom of the jar and climbing on each other to no avail. Haya spent a moment enjoying the show and then picked up the jug to carry the poor, little creatures outside. Before she could get to the door, she stopped and looked at the mice. Her mother had always told her God always answers our prayers, but sometimes the answers are not what we expected. Her mother also told her that she must always ask God to help her see the answers with His eyes and not her own. Two seemingly perfect mice just happen to find themselves trapped at the bottom of one of her clay jars...on the day when an animal sacrifice is required. Instead of turning the mice back into the outdoors, Haya put them into a small wooden box and closed the lid. She swallowed against the nervousness that had gripped her throat. She gathered up the boys and they made their way toward the synagogue.
So many people! So much noise! Each family had their turn to present their animal to the priests. Haya noticed a man sitting on the temple steps; not far from where the people made their offerings. Around him were a group of men and they seemed to hang on every word this man said. There was something about his eyes that drew her to him. She'd never seen him before, but felt like she knew him; like he knew her. It was her turn to present her offering and when the priest held up Haya's mice, the noise around her ceased. She felt her face flush with shame and she informed the priest it was all she had; there was nothing else to give. People around her began to laugh and then the man who'd been sitting with his friends came up to her. The laughing stopped without him saying a word. He motioned to one of the men in his group and whispered something into his ear and the second man ran from the steps. So many questions about this man and his friends were careening through Haya's heart and somehow, she was sure that he knew everything she was thinking. He knelt down to speak to Ari and Samuel. The boys fell into this stranger's embrace and greeted him with the smiles they used to give Jacob. Who was this man? As quickly as he had run away, the second man reappeared...with the most beautiful lamb Haya had ever seen. The stranger took the lamb from his friend and gave it to the priest. He then turned to Haya and spoke to her in a voice that drove out every bit of fear from Haya's heart. "Daughter, your faith has not gone unseen. Be at peace." Then he walked away and the group of men followed after him.
Like I said, this story was born out of my childish misunderstanding. It was 1970 something. I had no idea what a mite was; my mind heard mice and drew a picture of the widow standing before the priest, dangling two little mice by their tails. A mite is 1/64th of a denari...a full denari was a day's wage. Looking at it that way, the mice were probably worth all of a mite. In my story, it was all she had. In the Bible's story, it was all she had. And it probably took all that she had to give all that she had. So it then becomes the widow's might. Mite, mice or might, the story boils down to one thing....if we will give God our best...no matter how insignificant it may seem to the world, He will always honor it and use it for His glory.
Even if it's the retelling of misunderstood Bible story from the childhood of a dreamer who probably needed to pay closer attention to what the teacher was actually saying.
Oh ... words can't even begin to express what my heart feels upon reading this. It speaks to me, in a voice I need to hear, in a way I need to experience.
ReplyDeleteLoved this Bible Story straight from the heart of a childhood dreamer .. and the reminder that IF WE WILL GIVE GOD OUR BEST .. NO MATTER HOW INSIGNIFICANT IT MAY SEEM TO THE WORLD .. GOD WILL ALWAYS HONOR IT AND USE IT FOR HIS GLORY!!
ReplyDeleteKEEP THE STORIES COMIN'!