opening the cupboard doors for the tenth time never made more appear. yet the bareness of reality never kept me from reenacting, perhaps in desperation.
hope. maybe i had hope.
the wheels always turned in me and creativity spurred the most brilliant concoctions as a child:
- brown sugar and butter makes caramel, sort of
- bread ends with outdated yogurt and raisins
- pilot crackers and canned tuna, of course
- cabbage, lentils and chicken: something i like to call Beluga
growing up and even until now i never understood the virtue in poverty. maybe because i was too poor in other things like spirit at the time.
now though, as an adult, i see how intimate one becomes with God when they are poor. no longer merely self-reliant; when we have nothing else to trust we have only to trust God. if the world turns against us we turn to God. and so in a sense, those we damn and shame and judge (and maybe even yell out the car window, “Get a job!”); those we right off and cast out often have a far more exclusive provision with the Creator, than those who seek to fulfill their needs independently.