So there’s this website where you input your annual income, and it ranks your place in the world based on how rich you are. I even tried it with just my income alone, which let me tell ya – I’ve been kinda down about lately – and I was way, way up there.
After it tells you how rich you are, and there’s only room for, like, Oprah Winfrey and God in the symbols that represent the humans ahead of you in the rich list, then it tells you how much it costs to buy a yak for a family in a third world nation and stuff like that. Well, maybe not a yak – but definitely fruit trees and public education.
It fits, to find out how rich I am, with something I’ve been thinking lately about Queen Rania. I’ve written about her before. Her twitter bio says she’s a mum and a wife with a very cool day job. You’re telling me. And I’m not sure what it is about her that inspires me most, because it’s not like she’s the only rich person or royalty or beautiful woman to play such a charitable role in the global community. But I’ve been thinking of her anyway, and I’ve been wondering how I could be the Queen Rania of my own life, small as it is.
I’ve usually thought of myself more as the widow than as the rich people in the gospel story about offerings. They give from their wealth, she gives her mite, and Jesus suggests she therefore gave more. But most of the time I’m not even sure I give my mite. Unless by giving we’re counting HyVee and McDonalds.
So now I’m worried. Because I think I could have learned to give my mite. But now that I’m the 700 millionth richest person in the world, I’m worried there’s no hope for me. And I’m certain I will never give enough.
Photo by Ammar Abd Rabbo on Flickr.