Ewww

Diamante and I found a tiny worm on a plate in the cupboard today. Then one on the counter. Then on the wall. I confess this was not one of my good moments of identifying with the poor. After I'd found five or six in different places in the same area of our kitchen, I freaked out. After some investigation and worm squishing, we finally traced it to the bag of rice in the top part of the cupboard. When I looked inside, it looked like the rice was moving, there were so many worms. I had this moment of angst where I internally considered how so many people in the world would have to sift the worms out of this rice because they needed it too much to throw away--and for a flash I contemplated doing the same thing, because they have to. But my worm squeamishness won out, and we threw away 1/3 of a bag of rice, plus two potatoes and an onion that had been contaminated. So depressing. To what lengths should identification with the poor go, when "the poor" are in such different situations depending on whether you are living in a black neighborhood in Los Angeles, a squatter settlement in Manila, or amidst the overwhelming poverty of Kolkata? If the poor around me would throw away the rice, but the poor elsewhere in the world would eat it out of necessity, what should I do? Sigh. Incarnational living and justice are messy things to work out.