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Living in a nation of immense need, hands outstretched at every roundabout, every intersection, it's easy to become numb. Admittedly, I tend to be so pro-development that I overlook the value of meeting someone's immediate need because it's hard to evaluate if they are really in need, if they're just going to rip you off, if you're the 100th person who's also been moved by their "issue." When I receive no salary  and live off of my graduation money (or what's left of it) it's hard to figure out how to be generous.

I justify my generosity level many times. I consider me moving to Zambia as "enough." I've paid my dues. I've sacrificed enough, right? Can't that count?

When there are millions upon millions of people, friends, starving and struggling to make it to the next paycheck or lack thereof, how do I give? How do I live a generous life when if I gave to every person in need I would've been beyond broke the day I landed here?

There's obviously a tension. A desire to live generously and compassionately. Mixed with a desire to want more than handouts for Zambian people. Both could be of Jesus with the right heart and mindset.

So coupled with a very timely finances series at my church here, my prayer has been for Jesus to open my eyes to a need so that I can be generous with abundant blessings He's given me. He hasn't blessed me with so much to keep it all to myself. He blesses me so that He might be glorified through my giving to others.

I didn't fast and pray about this. I didn't read tons of scripture about generosity. I didn't seek out wise counsel to get other opinions on the matter. But I did say one simple prayer: "Jesus open my eyes to see a way I can be generous."

This was last Sunday. Then Monday morning comes along. I'm sitting outside the grocery store on some wire patio furniture finishing up a breakfast-on-the-go of grapefruit juice, waiting for Elina to arrive so that we can go to town to do more super exciting paperwork at government offices. I'm minding my business when I see this little person walk by, one not older than 7 years, dressed in dirty pink pants and a tattered pink striped shirt. No shoes. Patches of hair missing. Runny nose. Glassy eyes.  Hurting eyes. Curious eyes.

Rather than this little one coming up to be begging, "she" just sits at the table next to mine, with dirty, calloused feet swinging back and forth unable to reach the ground. "She" watches me hesitantly yet intentionally.

That's when the feeling kicked in. "Amy, I opened your eyes. Look. I brought this child here."

What do I give when I can't just give a handout of cash, because I know it'll be abused? I handed over my cup of grapefruit juice. The little one doesn't even stop for a breath, finishing it all. "She" takes out each piece of ice, mesmerized, and eats each one quickly. "She" isn't overly excited. Quiet, shy. Yet this was a little person, a child with real feelings. A child with real thoughts. I wonder what "she" is thinking. I'm convicted of all the times I look past little ones like this. But Jesus has brought this one to me with a purpose.

Even if the story ended there, I would be so thankful for how God worked in my heart to show me the love of the Father for every single soul. But He does immeasurably more, remember? Immeasurably more like urging me to give this little one the equivalent of $20, a week's worth of food for people living in the Ng'ombe compound. Something so beyond me that it can only be the urging of the Holy Spirit.

Elina arrives and asks this little one, dressed in dusty, dirty, raggedy pink, who "she" is. Turns out the pink is all he could find. His name is Joseph. His mom and dad are dead. He is a double orphan, the type of orphan thought to be quite common, but the "orphan" statistics include social orphans, abandoned children. This double orphan, this Joseph, is the type of child of which I've only met one other since being here. A 7 year old who has lived through the deaths of both his father and mother. He lives with his grandmother. She is a widow. A double orphan and a widow. Poor. The world's most vulnerable people. Joseph and his grandmother have been brought to us for a reason. The $20 is a shock not just to Joseph but to Elina. It becomes a shock to me too, wanting to take it back but Jesus urging me to keep going even though it's uncomfortable.

We take Joseph from the grocery store, inviting him- frail, sickly, dirty- into my car to drive him to his grandmother's house. Elina is eager to meet her and share the love of Jesus with her. This is an appointment created by Jesus in every way. Widow to widow. A widow whose heart bursts for orphans and vulnerable children. I stay back and leave Elina to talk to Joseph's grandmother, as her influence on her community is so healthy, so encouraging, so inspiring.

Guess what? She came to our training class the very next day. She exclaimed with joy over $20, asking if it was really hers to keep. Jesus came to her in the form of a widow, a hesitant giver, $20 and a cup of grapefruit juice. And Jesus came to us in those things, too. Even in my most inadequate, in my most doubting, Jesus proves His love for His people, working in and through us to display His glory.

Joseph isn't just one of the 153 million orphans in the world. He's a little boy who has lost his father and mother. He is living in poverty. He isn't just his socioeconomic status, either. He's a boy with dreams, with fears, with thoughts and with a story.

I haven't had the pleasure of hearing Joseph's story, and maybe I never will. But I did have the pleasure, and still do, of being moved by the generous love of God, displayed by Jesus conquering sin and taking my place so that I could know God and His grace. Jesus answered my prayer in the most beautiful of ways.

There are Joseph's everywhere, but I'm thankful that God has given me this Joseph to pray over. Joseph's grandmother hasn't returned to training class because Joseph has been sick in the clinic. This could mean a cold or it could mean malaria. Pray for Joseph with me? And for the little Joseph's all around the world?

Thank you Jesus for eyes opened to Your heart.