No supper for number six

I have six grandchildren. They are, by far, the best and the brightest children I've ever met, bar none.

First there's Brayden, who entered my world in July 1999. I remember the day as clearly as I remember my own name, because I was there when he was born. It wasn't planned that way - but the Lord has a way of changing even the best laid plans to suit his good and perfect purposes. All other hospital visits to any hospital between the birth of Brayden's father, Patrick, and Brayden's, involved the injured, the sick and the dying. The Lord, through my son and daughter-in-law, restored hope, wonder and joy in my heart that day.

A year and short weeks later, I witnessed the birth of my second grandchild, Haili Elizabeth. Again, it wasn't planned. I was prepared to be the grandmother in-waiting, pacing the hallways, anxiously looking up whenever I heard a door open or close. But something about the sound of my voice comforted the mom-to-be and I was there for the duration. Since I had, only weeks before, presided over the memorial service for my dad, witnessing Haili's birth restored me anew.

My next two grandchildren, Maddy and Harley, arrived without any assistance from me, but soon enough I was at the hospitals, one in Denver, the other in North Platte, camera and gifts in hand. They arrived within months of one another in 2003 and are well-integrated into the fabric of my life. Harley lives here so I get to see her often and keep track of her. She is her father's daughter and is a joy and a delight every time we see her.

Alycia, my daughter's first born, graciously allowed her grandfather and I to sleep through the night after returning from a memorial service for Danny's niece Stacy in 2004, before making her appearance on Jan. 15. The video of her birth reportedly shows me "pushing harder than mom" as we tried to encourage Alycia to enter our world. Her little brother Luke was equally reticent to emerge when he was born in September 2006. Now that he's 21⁄2, I'm sure he thinks we are all just props for his performance on center stage. After all my grandchildren are, far and away, the best and the brightest.

The world's population stands somewhere in excess of 6 billion souls. That's a six with nine zeros. Of those 6 billion souls, according to a report from the Associated Press in November 2008, 1 billion are hungry more often than not. To put it in perspective, look at my six grandchildren. You choose which one goes hungry today. I cannot.

Here in Southwest Nebraska we are in a most enviable position. Jobs have been lost, and families that were used to getting by on a little are now learning to get by on even less. That's all true. Nevertheless, at this point in time, we have stop-gaps in place to help. Some of those stop-gaps may begin to feel the strain sooner rather than later if the economy continues to sag, but in a small community like ours, knowing who our neighbor is and what it means to be a neighbor, is the norm rather than the exception.

A situation that unfolded in our nation's capital this week would never happen here. A man, struck twice by another man, for reasons that still remain unknown, was left to lie on the busy sidewalk to die, while passersby did just that, none offering aid.

Nor do I envision a situation here such as that which has existed for decades in larger metropolitan areas. The Gazette prints a community newspaper targeting the homeless population in Denver. (Our production manager, Lloyd Shields, always makes sure I get a copy, because he knows I have a heart for the homeless -- one of the Wichita lessons well-learned.) The newspaper is printed monthly, and always includes a page of shelters and soup kitchens, which at first glance is quite impressive. A closer inspection however, shows that the daily offerings are slim indeed, with most kitchens open only one day a week for a few short hours, leaving the approximately 4,600 homeless and the innumerable destitute to largely fend for themselves.

The weekly community supper at Memorial United Methodist Church is only one example of us being our brother's keeper. And at this point in time, it seems sufficient, when other support agencies, such as The Pantry, are factored in. If that changes, however, adjustments will have to be made and a drive through McCook could someday reveal a microcosm of what the church is being called to do across the length and breadth of the United States and in the world beyond. In true unity, being of one mind and one Spirit, the poor, the lonely, the bereft would meet every day to break bread prepared by the Body of Christ. The Evangelicals on Mondays, the Lutherans on Tuesday, the Baptists on Wednesday and so on, throughout the week. Church buildings, usually idle except for paid staff through the week, would be hustling, bustling beehives of activity. Preparing meals, mending cast-off clothing, knitting needles and quilting frames would occupy many a volunteer as the church Christ died to bring to life fulfilled his call to the world. Table-tops would become student desks as strangers to the Gospel inquired of Scripture the reason for the hope, for the help, and for His sacrifice.

For far too long and in too many ways, we have, as believers, relinquished our most sacred mission; to the government. Perhaps this time, we will learn our place in this world and take it, gladly spending all in service to our King.

"Then the King will say to those on his right, 'Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.'" Matthew 25:34-36 (NIV)