I'll Trade you Nine Cokes for Two Chickens

Okay, I know what you are thinking: "Who in their right mind would give up nine cokes for 2 chickens!" Well, the answer is, I would. Or rather, I am in the process of giving up nine cokes for 2 chickens, although I have only so far given up four by my somewhat-uncertain count. 9 Cokes at 1.25-- the amount I am charged by the vending machine strategically placed in my apartment complex's laundry mat-- equals a whopping 11.25 , which is enough to purchase 2 chickens on the Gospel for Asia website (www.gfa.org). Those two chickens will lay between 200 and 300 eggs in a years time, and they will continually impact the recipients for the entire lifespan of the birds, far outliving the fun and jitters of 9 bottles of teeth-rotting, high-fructose- corn-syrup-laden Coke. But, perhaps I am getting ahead of myself (as well as using too many dashes). Perhaps I should share a little bit more about my idea and how I came to put it into practice.

For the past two years, my wife and myself have not passed out Christmas presents with an exception made for our nieces and nephews. We instead made donations to charitable organizations (Smile Train in 2007, and Gospel for Asia in 2008) on behalf of those who would normally receive some sort of useless nicknack as a token of our love and affection. The idea being that we would impact the world positively with resources that would instead be wasted on things that our family did not need. The idea was met with very little resistance from my wife's family and we all agreed not to exchange gifts, which was great, because between her brother and her three sisters and all of their spouses and children, it was burdensome and difficult to buy something for everyone. My family, on the other hand, accepted that we would not give them gifts, but they insisted on still buying gifts for my wife and myself. So, while I handed my family a card saying I purchased two chickens on your behalf, my sister handed me a bag with a fedora, and my mom handed me 2 boxes, one with a sweater and a turtle neck, and the other containing a Kit-Cat clock, the caricature of which is staring at me from the confines of its box that sits atop my bookshelf. But I am glad to have these things. The clothes and the hat have already had some use, and someday I will probably even muster enough courage to open the Kit-Cat clock and set it to motion on a wall in my office. 

This year, however, I was thinking that I would like to do something more, that I would like to make a sacrifice that really impacted my life in a way. Purchasing the chickens on behalf of my family made a small dent in my paycheck, but for the most part, my life was largely unchanged by the purchases. I wanted to make a sacrifice, so I decided to start by abstaining from soda and spending the money that I would have spent on Coke instead on a pair of chickens from Gospel for Asia. 

Initially, the idea was to make a small sacrifice so that I could prove, both to myself and others, that we can positively impact the lives of other individuals through small changes in our own lives. I had decided  that I would continue my life as normal, that is, do whatever I would normally do on any given day, but if I would be in a situation where I would normally purchase a coke (with a meal, or when I walk past a vending machine), I would instead log the occurrence and the amount I would have spent on a Coke, and that money would be donated through Gospel for Asia. I had planned on doing this for something like twenty days, although I don't remember exactly, because it was supposed to end on Christmas day. Part of what I liked about the idea was its accessibility. It didn't really demand too much of me, and I assumed that it would be a good first step toward more aggressive lifestyle change, but I also knew that if I could not discipline myself in this small thing, then there was no way that I would be able to do more radical changes in lifestyle, such as giving up eating at restaurants, always packing my lunch for work, riding a bicycle and donating the money I would have spent on gasoline, you get the idea. 

I wish I could tell you that right off the bat I stuck to the idea and completely abstained from drinking soda until Christmas, but the truth of it is, I broke down on the third day. I had gone without once at a restaurant, and another time at home when I passed the vending machine, but by the third day at work I bought a fountain drink (1.79) with my lunch.  But I am a new man, and I have resolved to complete the task at hand, and I have been steady at it for five days now, due largely to the nagging of my tyrannical conscience (trust me, its a cruel taskmaster and ill formed, and I am doing my best to renew and reform it according to God's word), as well as taking on a different approach to the problem. I set a smaller goal.  Seven days to be exact. For seven days I would donate any money that I would normally have spent on soda during that time, which comes to roughly 10.00 of the 11.00 it takes to buy two chickens from Gospel for Asia. I am currently at five days, and I know that I will finish the task. 

I challenge anyone who is willing to consider doing something similar to my week without Coke. Go without it, give it up, sacrifice something, even if it is a small thing, for your brothers and sisters in need. We are all called to live sacrificially, but if we cannot succeed in making small sacrifices, how will we ever succeed in the larger ones? 

We must start somewhere, or we will never see change in ourselves or the world.

Tea is better for you anyway.

Yours in Christ,

Michael 

Care Giving Contest Entry

About a month back, I came across a flyer for a writing contest inside an industrial-sized box of diapers at my work. I decided to enter the contest, which had a theme of, "What Makes Caregiving Rewarding." It has passed the date that they were going to announce winners, and no one called my phone or sent me an email, so I am going to post it here. I hope someone finds it enjoyable. 

Michael

My Reward

For the past five years my wife and I have moved up and down the state of California— up to the northern coastline and old growth redwoods of Humboldt County where my wife studied for her master's degree, and down to the heartland of the state in the San Joaquin Valley to be near our families—and never have I had trouble finding work as a caregiver. When I was twenty-two, a fourth-year community college student taking his first job as a caregiver, I couldn't believe that there was actually a job where I would tend to all of the bodily needs of individuals, work the worst shifts you could imagine (“Yes I'd love to do another split graveyard shift, thanks!”), get spit on and chased by frying-pan-wielding, potted-meat throwing people, and make minimum wage. I signed up thinking that it was temporary, thinking that I would transfer to a university and get my degree in English, and then wipe my hands of the messy business of caregiving. But it didn't work out that way, not because I didn't finish college—I received my B.A. in English in June of 2006—it wasn't that at all. The problem was that I found I actually liked doing it. But it was more than that; it was good work, honest work, and the most rewarding thing I had ever done in my life.

I am a caregiver in an adult crisis home for people with developmental delays , and as a Christian, I see my placement there as an opportunity to test my faith. I get to try and walk out some of Christ's teachings—to love my neighbor as myself, to bless those who curse me and try to hit me with canned food. Love is an action, the cooking and the cleaning, the bathing and the shaving, the wiping and the changing of diapers are not done because I feel like doing it. They are willfully and purposely done to show my care for those in need of my assistance, to provide them with as much love and honor and dignity as I can. When love is acted out in this way, especially towards those who are sometimes hostile toward that love, I am able to grasp more fully God's love for me. It is in their hostility toward my care that I recognize the hostility I have often had toward the One who cares for me. God's love, like the love I am trying to apply as a caregiver, is not theoretical; it is practically applied to my life in my daily breath and bread. It is love that sustains me, love that keeps my heart beating, and keeps providing for my needs regardless (and often in spite) of my attitude toward it.

After a particularly hard time at work a few months ago, when I had been assaulted several times in the span of a few days and witnessed a young man I cared for get wheeled out of the house on a gurney after a prolonged violent episode in which the police were involved, I began to wonder if I was really cut out for caregiving. All I seemed to be making were the smallest of advances, and those were made only in the face of tremendous struggle. It was at that time when I read about a woman who was caring for her father who was suffering from late-stage Alzheimer's. In the article, the woman said that, as a caregiver, you needed to remember that you are in a marathon, not a sprint. This helped me to remember that it was wrong for me to look for gigantic leaps and bounds of progress as a measure of my success and the meaningfulness of my caregiving. My successes were small and incremental, slowly and daily providing a safer, higher quality of life for those in my care.

There is something rewarding and humbling about being able to serve people in this way, especially when you love them long enough to see those small changes in them. Over time, they begin to trust you, begin to see you not as an adversary but as a helper, a friend. They recognize your love, and they stop using the contents of the pantry as ammunition to hurl at you, stop balling their fists every time you walk past them in the hallway. They start to laugh with you, smiling the big unabashed smiles of those who never learned to be inhibited or to hide their feelings. When this happens, you sense the triumph of love, you sense its changing power, and you begin to understand and be grateful that your labor bears such a a great reward.

The Launch Post

Welcome to the first post of my blog, No Cure for Baldness. This blog is not about baldness, although,you might find me complaining about my dwindling follicle count from time to time (perhaps even with disturbing photos of my ever-expanding forehead), but I actually am more interested in writing about Christianity, and trying to put some words onto the faith that I am living out daily. In voicing these thoughts and musings, I seek to include others in what has been an often solitary journey of the mind and spirit. I hope that through sharing the things I am currently studying in the Bible, anything I have been thinking or praying about, as well as some of my own musings and ramblings about life in general, I am able to provide myself with an outlet for my own talents in a way that can encourage, enlighten, entertain, and edify others, as well as myself. I also hope that through writing this blog that I will have more motivation to continue in my own writing both on and offline. This is an attempt to share myself with others, to lose my life and myself so both might be found.
Please enjoy what you find here in the future, and I look forward to any correspondence.

Sincerely,
Michael Elkins