Love Is Not Self-Seeking

This Week's Story

Patrick manages our work in Haiti. Full-time. Salaried. Paid well. So imagine my face when, driving through Port au Prince one evening, he casually mentioned that he'd been translating for other groups around the country. For a week at a time. While I was paying him.

"How long have you been doing this?"

"Like a year."

I tried deep breathing. "Just one or two weeks total?"

"No."

"Three?"

"No. I dunno. Maybe twelve, fifteen."

Twelve or fifteen WEEKS. A third of a year. And here's the part that finished me off: they never paid him a dime. He did it, he said, "because they needed me."

I was seething. I ground my teeth down to nubs. And somewhere in all that righteous steam, it slowly dawned on me that I was riding next to the least self-seeking person I know. Patrick lives to be needed. He will do anything for anyone, and everyone loves him because his heart is as big as his country. What he did wasn't good employment practice — we had a talk, believe me — but it also wasn't about him. It never is. Meanwhile, I was the one keeping accounts, measuring my time, my money, my agenda, my inconvenience. Mine, mine, mine.

Love that is not self-seeking doesn't ask what's in it for me. It gives the last seat, the last word, the last bite. I flew home with a lot to think about and a manager I'd never trade.

This Week, Day by Day

My Prayer This Week