An oblation

I have a friend with a to-do list that is overwhelming her, to the extent that she can’t seem to get started on any of it. I don’t know if it’s from not knowing where to start, or feeling that just one little bit is too little, so why bother.

It can happen to any of us; it can happen at any time – and that’s okay.

To help my friend out, last weekend I offered to do a couple of the things on her list. I had the time, and it helped her out. She gratefully accepted my offer.

Yet, a week later, the final step of those tasks remains undone… it’s the part that I can’t do for my friend. So the outcome of my efforts is (literally) just sitting there.

And: for me, that’s okay. It’s not what I would have done, or what I would have wanted her to do, but that’s not my decision. I made good on my offering.

I could have gotten upset by it; I could have felt my efforts were wasted; I could have interpreted my friends’ inactions as an insult.

But they’re not. It’s still just part of the overwhelmingness of that to-do list. And, when my friend is ready, those things will still be waiting for her.

For an offering is not intended to be transactional, and it’s not meant to be dependent on someone else’s response. It’s simply doing what we can, as we are able. And we do well to remember that the outcome of our offering may not be what we desire or in our timeline – for we only have control over what we offer, not how it is received.

Sometimes, our offering can become something far greater than we anticipate – and sometimes we may never see the results. It’s the nature of oblation.

And so, we offer: to our dear ones, to our communities, to strangers, and (most importantly) to God. For in offering we use what has already been given to us, in ways that can continue to extend care and connection with one another.