You know, I am still totally into this video. I listen to it at least once a week, usually more. It’s helping me shift back into the person I used to be: the person who camped out the university president’s front law in order to get them to divest from South Africa during Apartheid; the person who wrote letters for Amnesty International; the person who ran a homeless shelter for teenagers; the person who spent the summer in an inner-city commune in order to learn how to live with and for the poor; the person who really believed Isaiah 58 was what it was all about; the person who wept at the thought of being given the opportunity to be known as “those who can fix anything, restorer of old ruins, rebuilder and renovator, those who make the community livable again.”

When I had babies, I lost track of that person, because babies take your whole personhood for awhile. (At least, that’s how it worked for me. It’s probably not that healthy, but there it is. If you’re there, and it doesn’t feel healthy, try reading Operating Instructions. Annie Lamott saved my life.) But now, those babies are four and six-year-old creatures soaking in the world around them like a sponge. They are privileged and pampered. They are never cold or hungry (we’ll, the little one said she was “starving to deaf” two minutes ago, but she exaggerates.) They have more toys and clothes than necessary (even if it is intentionally less than most of their friends.) And they are whip smart — asking questions about kids who don’t have sneakers that fit; wondering about the “No War” signs throughout our neighborhood; and chanting “Up with Kerry! Down with Bush!” (The four-year-old quickly turned this chant into a sly prechoolerish pun by adding “Down with Flowers! Down with Trees! She exaggerates and she’s a jokester.)

My kids are afoot in this world, and the world is, largely, on fire. It’s more than I can handle. But I’ve got to teach them to bring what they are able.

So, in my community we’ve been combating compassion fatigue, which you can read about here and here. And I’ve been very encourage, inspired and … I don’t know…spurned on to hope? Still, I’d like to take Sarah’s example very seriously, and I’ve been thinking about how I can take a set amount of money, a sum designated for something else, and just give it away.

My first thought was to give away our vacation money for the year. But this year we are going to Burning Man and its pretty much Paul’s dream and I think we’re really supposed to be there. Plus, I really like vacation and I’m just not that self-sacrificial.

Then I thought about my birthday money. You know how you start spending your birthday money before you even get it. In my mind’s eye I already had these brown boots I’ve been longing for for the past three years….or maybe a set of tickets to the Pacific Northwest Ballet’s new mini seasons…or maybe yoga every day at the very cool bamboo floor yoga studio down the street. (Can you imagine?!?!) I’d pretty much spent that money three times over before I’d even seen a single card in the mail. Then it hit me. That’s the perfect thing. A concrete set of funds that would otherwise be used for completely non-essential items.

So I’m giving it away. As the checks have come in I’ve tucked them into a box. I’ll write thank you notes of course. Then I’ll send it all to Doctors without Borders to help with the medical crisis in Sudan.

There. I said it. Now I’ll have to follow through.

I talk about money quite a bit. How we’re giving it away. How we’re struggling to figure out how to use it, where to allocate it. How we wish we had more to build our little apartment…to lay a labyrinth down in the back yard. I suppose that’s in poor taste –talking about money. Miss Manner’s would surely frown at it. But you know, I think money has become too sacred, too holy, so set apart and special that we must be private and secretive about it. But what is it set apart for? I don’t know. It just doesn’t seem healthy to me. Money is powerful. It changes things. It can connote value. It can be the difference between life and death. I think we should be talking about that. I think it’s worth bringing it out of the closet marked “taboo” so that instead of treating money like its holy, we learn to practice the practice of using it for something holy.

I don’t know. Maybe that’s just something people say when they have enough money. Maybe that’s just the voice the comfortable and bourgeois. Or maybe it’s one step towards carrying a bucket of water over to a world that’s on fire.