One spring morning, I woke up with the awareness that the house felt and sounded different from the night before. There was a familiar and welcoming scent in the air and I could hear happy, excited sounds coming from the kitchen to my receptive ear. Yes, the house felt nothing like it did on the previous day.
The day before, I was morose because I had a terrible day at school. I was particularly teased that day and felt completely worthless. To make matters worse, I had to go to bed hungry that night because we had just finished the last of our food supply.
That morning, however, was quite different.
Papi came home!
As soon as my groggy mind zeroed in on that realization, an emotional change took place within me and the muscles of my body rallied together to move into action. Racing, I got out of bed and dashed to the kitchen to kiss Papi and welcome him home. I had eyes only for him and was satisfied to be held in my father's strong and comforting arms. It was then that I truly opened my eyes to see what was around me.
The sight was overwhelming to say the least.
Everywhere I looked in the kitchen, there were mangos of all shapes and sizes greeting and inviting my ravenous eyes and growling stomach. Busy at "work," my older siblings were already eating and joyfully chatting in the kitchen. I looked up at Papi as I realized that he had just brought all these mangos from Bas-Molas just for our pleasure -- and survival. Soon, I joined the rest of the family, eating my fill of all kinds of delicious Haitian mangos.
Days later, Papi had already gone back to Bas-Molas; yet, we were still eating mangos -- for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Conversations between me and Manmie went like the following:
"What's for dinner?"
"Funny you should ask. How about . . . mangos?"
"Again?!?"
It astounded me to sense a different response from within my heart. The mango harvest was so plentiful that even our voracious appetite did nothing but make a small dent to the generous supply. Our kitchen wall was lined with huge sacks and baskets that were overflowing with mangos.
I began feeling like my family could never consume all of these mangos.
I began resenting the sight and the smell of this never-ending, boring diet.
I began pouting at the mere thought of another "mango" meal.
How typical!
Human beings are rarely content with what they have. In need, they want plenty; in plenty, they want something else.
Naturally, I began cultivating a heart of grumbling made worse by the fact that those mangos, encouraged by the humid air of Haiti, began to go bad. The delectable taste turned suspect and the beautiful orange began to take a brownish tint. Moreover, the inviting smell was being replaced by an increasingly putrid stench emanating from the bad mangos sitting at the bottom of the sacks and baskets.
Sufficiently disgusted and fed up, I went to school that day and began complaining about those yucky mangos to my classmates. To my surprise, more and more heads were turning toward me until the whole class of some 20 students heard about it and convinced the teacher to let them all go to the Lilite household during recess. Upon arriving home, I told Manmie that my classmates would like to eat some mangos.
I realized that day how rich I was in comparison to many of the other students. I had grown tired of mangos whereas my peers were ecstatic to eat them, thanking Manmie profusely in the process. My heart had become disgruntled whereas their hearts were humbly accepting God's provision for them.
How convincting!
I learned to be grateful that day for what was provided for me. I learned to see how important it was to be generous with others instead of complaining about the unwanted surplus of goods.
Father, please forgive my discontent with need and my frustration with the surplus that I do not want. Help me to see that this social norm of being dissatisfied with my lot runs contrary to Your plan. Help me to follow You with gratitude, contentment, and generosity! Amen.
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