The Story of the Fourth Servant

The Story of the Fourth Servant

Guest Writer: Karen D

“Again, it will be like a man going on a journey, 

who called his servants and entrusted his wealth to them.” Matthew 25:14

I am the fourth servant

Somehow left out of the telling,

but very much still part—a player. 

The event was noteworthy, significant,

Memorable—before the extended journey—

With delegation of duties. 

I’m all about delegation, job description,

responsibility, accountability:

Just give me a task and stand back. 

The process, planning, purpose

captivate me as I am on my own journey:

—beginning and end points

—intermediate sign posts

—desired outcomes and goals

—estimated costs and returns

The timeline enchants and strategic vision justifies. 

I digress. As I said, I am the fourth servant.

Our loving-strict, fatherly, ex-military boss

assigned the duties:

One received five: a diligent guy, wise investment.

Two received two: a kindness, really. Two had just

            recovered from a personal trauma. Otherwise, capable.

Three received one: he would have to set his mind to it,

            but it wasn’t an impossible stretch.

I was Four. I also received one—but neither I nor it was mentioned.

Delighted to be included, of course,

I could certainly manage one.

The chance for two or three would have been welcome—

But I’m not ambitious, just a pleaser. 

So I set my planning into motion:

How to best look after this one. Thoughts

whirled with options and possibilities. 

This amount—one—was limiting;

It felt confining, anyway.

Yes, I was grateful, but I could have accomplished

—shone, if you will—

with a bit more. But there you are—

I come from sea-faring folk,

so I looked to the sea.

Fish to be caught and sold:

profit to be made and invested.

Started small: hired a captain and his boat,

bought a middling net,

employed a few seasoned fisher friends

and Out we went.

We started well—caught and sold

—mended nets—paid the men

bought another net—and repeat 

Every day the weather permitted

we were on the waves:

straining at bursting nets, catching fish,

delighting in the tired muscles and breathless laughter

and wind in our hair. 

Selling was not my strong suit:

I was tired and not shrewd

—those who sold for me were not kind,

not honest,

not just—

so I released them

and sold what I could

and gave the rest to the poor.

The weather turned and some days were empty—

but work was paid regardless of the take—

The seas were capricious:

what started well spiralled down.

The nets tore and wore;

We mended the mended bits.

No matter how we toiled and strove,

ends barely met.

Finally I could only pay my men with fish from the catch—

the net had out-lived its lifetime twice over—

there was naught to buy another.

What went wrong?

My plan had been careful,

the process clearcut,

the purpose obvious: make a bundle

make Him smile.

All I had to show was a battered net,

some faithful friends

and a few marginals with a bellyful

Quite unexpectedly our master came home—

I thought there would be so much more time

(He’d been gone for ages, so I expected more.)

But out of the blue,

there he was with his entourage—home

and called each of us who’d been tasked.

You know the story, you heard the score:

One had made five more—high commendation.

Two had made two more—top marks.

Three had hidden his and kept it safe.

(I was wishing I’d been more circumspect—

but how could I have foreseen the bleak forecast?)

My heart sank when he was rebuked for his caution

—his one was given to One with ten

—Three was exiled, fired, extinguished. 

Had there been somewhere to hide,

You know I’d have found it.

Instead I stood there—bare feet and tattered clothes

—stuttering my story

—I didn’t even have the one  

I had nothing

Except a useless worn out net:

Not a thing to offer

for all my effort and strain and danger

I’d over-estimated myself, took on too much,

and now I was in debt—

I could not even pay back the one

He had entrusted to me.

My eyes groundward,

I felt the others’ eyes on me:

How I wished I could have been clever,

shrewd,

productive

like One and Two.

They were basking

as they deserved.

Hoisting courage I looked into His eyes,

raised my empty, weathered hands:

then dropped them and fell to my knees.

“Sir, I am so sorry. I have nothing to report:

No profit

No payout

I spent the deposit and it is gone.”

Cringing, I knew I deserved worse than Three—

but what could be worse than to be thrown out? 

I felt a hand on my arm, a guard to take me away—

no doubt to debtor’s prison—

But it was my master.

“Reports of the poor being fed have reached me.

Widows and orphans,

the dispossessed and disabled.

Your fish have nourished hope in them—

You have repaid me

by feeding the weak in my land.

Come share my joy.”

Karen Dubert

Karen is a Third Culture Kid, married to one and has raised two. She has taught and mentored in Eswatini, China, Moçambique, Zimbabwe, and South Africa. Now, in her autumn years, she coaches young people in cross-cultural work in southern Spain.

Joanna Seibert. https://www.joannaseibert.com/

Wisdom From Little Women

Wisdom from Little Women 

Guest post by Isabel Anders

“What do girls do who haven’t any mothers to help them through their troubles?” 

—Jo in Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women.

I have been fascinated watching the Korean series on Netflix titled Little Women, which is a completely original “take” on the intertwined stories of some very different sisters. “Loosely based on the 1868 novel of the same name,” indeed.

Unlike the Alcott classic, this series features only three sisters—though another sister they once had is said to be deceased.  And these really are women, not girls—the youngest, Oh In-hye, is eighteen, but is still in school and looks much younger.

They are “little” in the sense that they have no wealth, status, or even a stable home situation—and the greatest difference I see in this adaptation is that all of the adults in their lives have let them down. While the March sisters had the loving wisdom of Marmee, the mostly off-stage stability of their devoted father, and a society that still believed in the virtuous life—the Oh sisters have none of this.  Corruption, deceit, and even terror stalk their lives, symbolized by a mysterious blue orchid.

Some religious ritual enters into the story by way of funerals and honoring deceased elders.  But there is nothing like Marmee’s faith or a father’s inspiring pastoral duties in wartime to provide meaning and sustenance to the younger generation.

Marmee told her girls: “The more you love and trust God, the nearer you will feel to Him, and the less you will depend on human power and wisdom. His love and care never tire or change, can never be taken from you, but may become the source of lifelong peace, happiness, and strength. Believe this heartily, and go to God with all your little cares, and hopes, and sins, and sorrows, as freely and confidingly as you come to your mother.” 

But more than giving advice, Marmee in the original Little Women lived this reality while struggling herself in their midst. The mother of the Oh sisters, in stark contrast, steals their long-saved money and cruelly abandons them as they try to provide for Oh In-hye.

These sisters widely out-mother their mother, though they face constant temptations to relax their innate sense of virtue and rightness. They nearly succumb to terrible onslaughts. But their resiliency and beauty as persons—and their accomplishments through the plot’s many riveting twists and turns—are stunning in every sense.

So, consider Little Women—both the classic novel and the modernized tale—and what can be gleaned from two fascinating family sagas of sisters who are learning to pull together and to embody feminine strength in their own times.

Isabel Anders’ latest book is Wisdom From Little Women with Tracy Grant.

https://www.amazon.com/Wisdom-Little-Women-Louisa-Alcott/dp/B09MYRFW53/ref=sr_1_1?crid=3H9IL0C84EIPA&keywords=Wisdom+From+Little+Women&qid=1665096789&qu=eyJxc2MiOiIwLjAwIiwicXNhIjoiMC4wMCIsInFzcCI6IjAuMDAifQ%3D%3D&s=books&sprefix=wisdom+from+little+women%2Cstripbooks%2C179&sr=1-1

Joanna.  Joannaseibert.com

Fig Trees, Blossoms, and Hope

Redbud Blossoms and Fig Trees

“Then [Jesus] told this parable: A man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard; and he came looking for fruit on it and found none. So he said to the gardener, ‘See here! For three years, I have come looking for fruit on this fig tree, and still, I find none. Cut it down! Why should it be wasting the soil?’ He replied, ‘Sir, let it alone for one more year until I dig around it and put manure on it. If it bears fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down.’”—Luke 13:6-9.

There is a wild redbud tree outside my office window with beautiful pink budding flower clusters close to the stem in the spring. The tree is in the middle of wild bushes and hardwood trees. For several years, I saw no new life budding on it. Then, one spring, when I was outside, I noticed these beautiful blossoms and wondered where they came from.

When I returned to my office, I could not find the tree. Then I looked up from my desk. There they were, high above the other trees. The tree was flowering only in the canopy above my window. Lower down in my direct vision, there were no blossoms. It gave me pause, and I determined to stop during the day to look up from my line of sight—to interrupt my work to glance away and take in the beauty of the blossoms.

One more lesson from my blossoming redbud tree: It divides into three parts near its trunk. For years, only one division seemed alive and flowering. The other two large sections had no leaves or blossoms. But this year, I notice that clusters of blooms have formed at the top of the middle division.

I am reminded of the fig tree in the Gospels. Jesus calls us to be patient and expectant. Our challenge is waiting for what appears dead to discover if it may still be alive and capable of producing beauty and fruit.

The same thing happened after a recent cold snap, where we thought all our bushes and plants were dead. In spring, green emerged from the roots of all our bushes.

Do not give up hope. New life continues to grow out of what seems dead. Nature keeps telling us this over and over again if we only stop, look, and listen.

Joanna  https://www.joannaseibert.com/