Our two weeks in Milan are drawing to a close. Sunday, we will eat one last brioche and point our noses back to the land of Starbucks and larger cars. I will miss Italy so much.
We have been living the refreshing rhythm of days measured by the quality of conversations with God and with others rather than by errands run or hours worked.
Even then, “measure” is a mis-nomer. Because how can you measure what God might do through a seemingly inconsequential hug? Or a friendly chat over a maroccino?
Two weeks is a blip on eternity’s timeline, but if love was expressed, that blip carries the weight of eternity.
This morning I forgot this. For about three hours, I walked in a fog of self-doubt which was really God-doubt in disguise. It hit me after breakfast, causing me to question my effectiveness, my abilities, and whether I had wasted my time coming.
As I type, I’m scoffing at the absurdity. But even the absurd can sound true when you’re tired.
I looked over the past two weeks and saw only a string of inconsequential moments, conversations, and activities. Only two weeks, when I longed to give the whole shebang and move here for good. It seemed so paltry. Like loose change in my coin purse.
But there was that day when Jesus called her two coins the biggest offering of all.
And there was another afternoon when a kid’s lunch, given to Jesus, fed enough people to fill a stadium.
He loves to use the weak things, the small things, the awkward things, even the boring things.
By this, He shames the strong.
If I feel strong, I’m actually weak.
But when I give Him the small things–my little lunch, my loose change–His strength is obvious.
So this is what I’m learning. It’s only something small…but I guess I could be wrong about that. 🙂