One summer we harvested a gorgeous crop of grass hay. We counted 334 bales -- a year’s supply -- but I told a friend I’d sell her some if there was extra.
With one more wagonload to put up, my crew asked, “Do we put it up in the loft?” I was hot, empty, undecided.
I said, “Leave it out,” because I gave my word. The second cutting would grow. But the summer stayed dry and clover bloomed, the hay worthless for my horses. We gave it to a friend for the cost of getting it out of the field.
All winter I’ve wanted those minutes back where my hay crew waited for me to decide what to do with my hay. I wish I could gather time and change my mind, because I don’t like the gaps between stacks of hay in the loft and hope we have enough until the first cutting.
Jesus tells a story about girls who wait for the bridegroom deep into the night -- the ones who forget to bring extra oil, return from market to find a locked door, outer darkness and grief so big they gnash their teeth.
So maybe this is one thing Jesus might have meant when he talked about the virgins bringing extra oil. Maybe it’s not all bad to provide for yourself. Maybe generosity can become a fault.
I’m Katie Andraski, and that’s my perspective.
