So this morning when I went to make my breakfast, I noticed several hundred tiny fruit flies on my windowsill. This probably has to do with the fact that I’ve been so busy that I didn’t do the dishes before I left for Memphis (although I did take out the garbage). The thing was, they were all dead. Now, I don’t think that anyone fumigated the place while I was gone, so my only conclusion is this—the fruit flies froze to death. I’ve been too frugal to keep the heat on while I’ve been gone, so my apartment was below the lowest temperature the thermostat reads when I got home at 12:30 am this morning. But you know what? My electric bill was only $16.50 this month… and my infestation problem is solved!

Horrible news, though—the ‘Stang died on me this morning. Yes, when I came back out of the Center after unloading all the World Tour stuff and tried to start her up, she simply made this “whoomp!” noise and refused to move. I called my mom in Washington, who called my grandpa. They told me that it would probably have to be towed to a garage to have the battery replaced, but that I should call David’s parents to see where to take it.

Now, I should note at this point that I really hate asking for help of any kind from most people. My mother instilled it in me, and her parents instilled it in her. I’m always afraid of being troublesome, or being seen as taking advantage of others. And I know that David’s family already does quite a bit for me (from helping me move to drilling through a bedframe on a Saturday night so I could remove it from the apartment). But I sucked it up and called David’s dad at work, but only to find out which mechanic they would recommend.

When they heard of my problem, David’s parents responded with their characteristic generosity. My sick Mustang is now (thanks to a jump from Brianne) at the Bogdans’, where David’s dad will replace the battery for me, and I’m cruising around Louisville in their Ford Aerostar. I really wish that I didn’t have to put them out so much.

Yet at the same time, their kindness reminds me of our Christian call to not only give grace to others, but to accept the gift of grace from others. So often our individualistic culture instills in us the idea that with enough money, we can do without anyone else. We are so used to buying and selling that we think every human interaction is a zero-sum game, in which to get something we must give something equally valuable in return. But God reminds me of a little lesson in wisdom I learned when my dad passed away—sometimes we must accept grace from others, knowing that there is nothing we can do to return it in kind.

After all, isn’t this concept at the heart of the Christian faith? We’re loved and forgiven by a God that we can never possibly hope to repay. We can only accept, and then let the love God has given us spread out into every facet of our own lives. And that’s when genuine community, true transformation, takes place.

“They are now justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus.” --Romans 3:24

Kelsey