“I have nothing else to give.”
At some point in our lives, we’ve probably all felt that way.
A demanding job, a loved one’s terminal illness, a toxic relationship… can gnaw at us like a cancerous sore. We brace and resist it, but eventually physical fatigue and emotional exhaustion take their toll on us.
When we first became parents of a newborn, everyone asked us how we were coping with sleep. Having worked 80-hour work weeks before and being married to a hands-on and loving husband, I gave myself no reason for complaint nor pity, by myself or others.
But five weeks later, with an unabating series of nights of broken sleep, I found myself sitting on the sofa one evening with tears rolling down my cheeks, not from resentment nor self-pity, but sheer exhaustion.
Cliff and I had, however, agreed to visit the Syrian refugee family we had come to be friends with, the next morning. Over the months, together with a group of friends, we had sought to help them integrate into Canadian life, after they had, in a previous life, escaped the face of war and terror.
That morning, feeling flat, I wondered- how could I possibly have anything to give when I myself felt so tired and empty?
When we arrived, however, the family was thrilled to see us. Their smiles seeing Baby made our visit worth every effort.
Even when I had felt I had nothing to give, God’s grace and ways gave us joy to share, a life to rejoice over.
Since more than a year ago, Cliff and I had been praying for opportunities to help and reach out to refugees, and as they shared their gratitude over small victories- a new job at a bakery, speaking better English, adjusting to the wintry weather, it was surreal, knowing that we could play a tiny part in rebuilding their new lives in Canada. We had heard of families like theirs who had come with little, and had to rebuild their homes from the love of the communities which welcomed them.
Feeling exhausted, we had to leave earlier than we would have liked. But just before we left, the Syrian mother of two young children stopped us.
With our language barrier, we thought she was showing us something she liked. But it became clear to us, that the beautiful blanket she was holding, was meant for us.
“For Baby,” she said. “Cold in Canada.”
As I held the gift in my hands, I knew I had come in empty but was then leaving filled with gratitude, touched by their profound generosity and thoughtfulness, and the joy of seeing their excitement over Baby’s birth.
That evening, however, I came to learn their tragic news- that just recently, that same mother had had a miscarriage.
It then dawned upon me- If there were anyone who should have been feeling empty, it should have been her. Yet, her countenance was filled with joy, her disposition, filled with hospitality.
I am learning, that no matter how empty we might feel or how little we think we might have to give, God always gives us the grace to give something of ourselves to others. Feeling like I had nothing left to give, I had asked God for grace. And grace He did provide- through the joy He gave others through our baby.
And while that mother must have struggled with a heartwrenching void, she continued to give, in spite of her loss.
I am learning, that even in our lack, God can turn the little we have, to become the key that fits the lock to someone else’s heart. As long as we are willing, He can turn our perceived emptiness into someone else’s blessing.
After all, God always has something more, from the surplus of His abundant grace and rich love, for us to be a giver of, a channel of, and a recipient of His blessing and love.
On behalf of Baby, thank you.
“One gives freely, yet grows all the richer;
Another withholds what he should give, and only suffers want.
Whoever brings blessing will be enriched,
and one who waters will himself be watered.”
– Prov 11:24-25