Here we are in the Post Thanksgiving, Pre Christmas season and in addition to feeling thankful for innumerable blessings and anticipating the joys of the upcoming Christmas season, I find myself at times caught up in the ugly dramas of the world. The challenge is always to figure out a way to step up and out of those things and to keep oneself from falling back into the muck. I am going to try to do this by finding examples of good "things" and by ignoring the "headlines" for a bit. I still devoutly believe in the existence of good. And so -- I begin...
Recently I heard of a family who took part of their post Thanksgiving feast time to discuss how they were going to give to others during the upcoming holiday season. As has become their family tradition - in lieu of exchanging gifts with other adults in the family - they would again pool their money and determine together where a donation would be most needed -- locally. I am deeply touched by that kind, quiet generosity.
Personally my major concern is hunger. I cannot stand the thought of people going hungry. I think I got that from my parents. I remember my Mom feeding "hobos" at our kitchen table. This happened quite a lot actually. We were on the "Hobo Route", I guess. My Mom used to say that our house was marked somehow so they knew where they would be welcome. (Many a calm afternoon of my childhood was spent looking for said mark. Never found it.) Anyway -- I particularly remember one man devouring an entire box of cereal -- while he was crying. Memories like that stick with a person. My Dad would give them clothes, shoes, and/or perhaps a warm coat, and then drive them on their way – a least a few miles or so in whatever direction they wanted to go. I would often ride along in the back seat. (I was a tag-along whenever I could manage to do that.) There were other times -- also when I was in grade school -- that my Dad would have me ride along with him with a small pile of envelopes on the seat between us. He would stop in front of a house, I would jump out, knock on the door, and hand an envelope to an adult without telling them who I was. It was sort of scary and people cried sometimes. I think I got “it” even then. He didn't say very much while we were driving about - except for one thing. He always said that helping others does not count if you make it about yourself. You help people because you want to help people, not to get your picture in the paper. Yep. Not sure he would be pleased that I am telling you about it now ... even though he is only with us in memory.
We don't call people hobos anymore. Perhaps they have been replaced with "homeless" - although the situations are not quite the same. We no longer open our doors to strangers. That would be foolish. We no longer pick up hitchhikers. That would be downright dangerous. I am actually a bit surprised if a stranger even holds a door open for me. Times change. it's not always for the better. My concern is in finding a way to make this not so true. Little kindnesses spread. Each one matters. We all decide.
Maybe it all boils down to this... “At the end of the day, as you close your eyes, be content with what you’ve done, grateful for what you have and proud of who you are." I have seen several variations of this sentiment and have no idea of the original source. Wish I did. Words are sometimes a gift. I would like to say Thank You. 'Tis the season.
No comments:
Post a Comment