for when we need to serve as we have been served

 At the top of a mountain in Topa de Sus, Bihor, Romania lives a woman affectionately known by countless Americans as "The Donut Lady."

It is not an easy walk up to her home, even for the most fit.  There is no trail, just land and forests and the occasional pig of goat that has wandered out of its mountain farm yard.

My first trip up to visit Florica was on an unseasonably cold and rainy Tuesday morning in the middle of June.  By the time we reached our destination our entire group was cold, wet, and a bit muddy from the occasional slip during the hike.

We were greeted by the sight of a dog unsure of whether it should welcome us or be on guard, a chicken coup with its feathered residents milling around, and a tiny woman, weathered by age, sun, and a life of hardwork, standing on the small stoop with a big smile and a bigger embrace.

She brought us into her tiny home, and not like those of the current trend, with no apologies for lack of space.  Circling inside the small room, sitting on the floor, couches, or crouched slightly under the low hanging ceiling, we waited as our hostess reappeared with a mountain of homemade donuts on a simple platter, her specialty.

The warm treats were passed around with no thought of washing hands, or passing our plates, or even napkins.  No worry about whether we might spill on the "couch" that was actually her bed.  

They were served by a woman who knew what we all know, that inviting people into your home should not be dependent upon the perfect time or required to have flawless execution.  The different was, she actually believed that and her actions proved it.  She had taken knowledge and turned it into conviction and it flowed from her hands to ours.

In a land we had traveled to by plane and van for over a day, across an ocean and European borders in order to serve others, we were served instead.  The only thing desired in return was our presence--and for our hands to be ever full of her lovingly created pastries.

Peter tells us that "each should use whatever gift you have received to sere others, as faithful stewards of God's grace in its various forms." (1 Peter 4:10)

However fun (or stressful depending on the personality) it can be, hospitality is not creating a picturesque atmosphere for another to see.  It does not require shopping for new items before another comes to visit.  It does not mean hiding your mess, dirt, and imperfections and it does not mean leaving all of  those out in the open but apologizing for doing so.  Hospitality is simply serving.  Serving is taking the gifts we have been given and using them for another.

Serving is not caring how impressive it may seem compared to another's, not caring if we have had the time to tweak our gift to our specifications, not caring how many times we've practiced alone to achieve perfection, but only caring how freely it is given knowing IF it has been given to you by God, THEN giving it on to another is sharing God as well.  Through Him our gifts are already perfect.  Perfectly given to perfectly give away at the perfectly ordained times to the ones who need it.

We are all called to serve, no matter where in the world's eyes we fall on the scale, from the greatest to the least.  In serving, we show God's grace to another.  In serving, we, like Florica, emulate the very essence of Christ.  "For even the Son of Man did not comes to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many." (Mark 10:45)

I think often of Florica's example, of that full hearted, joyful desire to give, to serve.  Because of it, there is a desire and reminder to not just open my home to anther, but to open my gifts to them as well.  To serve as I have been served.  To serve as Christ did for us and asks me to do for another.  I pray my knowledge becomes conviction and therefore causes an overflow to those around me.

I pray for you today as you seek the ways you can serve by using the gifts you have been given, both in the obvious ways and the not so obvious ones.  Pray for me.