Historical Setting: Monkwearmouth, 794 C.E.
The young woman wrapped in my cloak, follows me along the river bank toward the sea to the mooring harbor where I’ve noticed Cloothar’s merchant’s boat is moored.
“Friend Cloothar!”
He is in his boat, folding and sorting his wares, preparing to travel up river at high tide. He sees me and untethers from the mooring post to bring his boat closer to this bank so that I can tell him of our need.
“Have you a woman’s tunic of wool to suit this season?”
He rummages through his heaps of goods, and emerges with a perfectly fine dress in a size much too large for this girl.
“What price can she pay?”
“I’ll trade the dress for my cloak which you remember, you traded me for my work and the monk’s robe.”
“That is a very fine cloak, you realize, worth much more than this old dress.”
“It is what I have to trade. Perhaps you will do the alterations for her.”
“That would make it worth the trade.”
A cold January wind whips off the sea and this poor waif draws my cloak tighter around her. It is the same gust of wind that shivers me and reminds me of my sacrifice. Do I give up my cloak so easily because I think God needs to be reminded of my goodness? Maybe that was a thought that crossed my mind. But, as much as I would like to win God’s approval, like adding a star to my crown in heaven, I know in my brain God doesn’t love a person by the measure of their goodness.
God loves everyone, freely. The gift giving that shivers me, also defines humankind. It practices the God-love on earth as it is in heaven and speaks from the in-born nature of human empathy. When I give a small gift, it is amplified into all human goodness and because it says simply, “God is gracious and good, and through this gifting we know grace and goodness.” With a few blatant and obnoxious exceptions, goodness prevails. So, now my one little shiver reminds me of all the goodness on earth and in heaven. Life is good.
Thank you, God.
The three of us find shelter from the cold in the harbor shed. So Cloothar fits the large woman’s tunic on this very small girl with fabric left for a cowl. Cloothar is being generous here. Generosity is contagious.
(Continues tomorrow)
Lazarus Ink 