someone sits down and lifts his head to talk. he describes his sadness arising from the recent death of his brother. you listen and affirm the importance of loss, the intrinsic importance of being connected and the long road of memory and joy and sadness associated with a relationship. and then, later, when you part and go your separate ways you drive your car to a gas station. one person purchasing gasoline is standing very still, quiet and without expression. you watch this person and think of how he stands, puts his hands in his pockets, gazes absently. you watch and construct a story, a sketch, a tiny frail model of this person's life. you look directly at this man with a car, getting gas, and you make an effort to send a shred of that model out into the space between you. you offer it up for his consideration, and then you leave. efforts to connect are fragile gifts. we try. we humans really do try.
I like when the paradigm of giving grows into one of sharing, all parties touch in the equation. To take time to learn the need is an introductory step. Many have taught us, “Reach out your hand, if your cup be empty, if your cup is full, may it be again...” (Hunter/Garcia).
Lovely! Sharing is giving in the most beautiful way, I agree. I personally believe that what people need will always be something of a mystery, but we can offer what we feel we're best equipped to give (or, better, share). Happy Thanksgiving, Jim! :)
Oh, I love that you brought up the "he'll drink it away" argument. When my younger son was in middle school on a field trip bus to Chicago's Field Museum, he had five dollars for lunch money. On the way through the West Side, he saw a man in a wheelchair—disheveled, haggard. My son handed the money to the man out the window of the bus. He was reprimanded by the teachers, several. "Don't do that!...He'll just use it for drugs." I'm also sure there was a bit of a safety concern there, and that's understood. My son was in their charge. But I told my son that what the man does with his gift is only speculative...yes, and it may be true what the teachers say...but wouldn't it be wonderful to have hope that he won't...and that maybe you're giving him the opportunity to make his own decision, the chance to do the right thing. Yes, it may be niave but, it also may be right. And maybe this guy had no intentions of using that $5 for drugs or drink. Isn't it a nicer world when we believe that might be true?
(You're inspired me to write about this incident! And, I will.)
someone sits down and lifts his head to talk. he describes his sadness arising from the recent death of his brother. you listen and affirm the importance of loss, the intrinsic importance of being connected and the long road of memory and joy and sadness associated with a relationship. and then, later, when you part and go your separate ways you drive your car to a gas station. one person purchasing gasoline is standing very still, quiet and without expression. you watch this person and think of how he stands, puts his hands in his pockets, gazes absently. you watch and construct a story, a sketch, a tiny frail model of this person's life. you look directly at this man with a car, getting gas, and you make an effort to send a shred of that model out into the space between you. you offer it up for his consideration, and then you leave. efforts to connect are fragile gifts. we try. we humans really do try.
I like when the paradigm of giving grows into one of sharing, all parties touch in the equation. To take time to learn the need is an introductory step. Many have taught us, “Reach out your hand, if your cup be empty, if your cup is full, may it be again...” (Hunter/Garcia).
Lovely! Sharing is giving in the most beautiful way, I agree. I personally believe that what people need will always be something of a mystery, but we can offer what we feel we're best equipped to give (or, better, share). Happy Thanksgiving, Jim! :)
Oh, I love that you brought up the "he'll drink it away" argument. When my younger son was in middle school on a field trip bus to Chicago's Field Museum, he had five dollars for lunch money. On the way through the West Side, he saw a man in a wheelchair—disheveled, haggard. My son handed the money to the man out the window of the bus. He was reprimanded by the teachers, several. "Don't do that!...He'll just use it for drugs." I'm also sure there was a bit of a safety concern there, and that's understood. My son was in their charge. But I told my son that what the man does with his gift is only speculative...yes, and it may be true what the teachers say...but wouldn't it be wonderful to have hope that he won't...and that maybe you're giving him the opportunity to make his own decision, the chance to do the right thing. Yes, it may be niave but, it also may be right. And maybe this guy had no intentions of using that $5 for drugs or drink. Isn't it a nicer world when we believe that might be true?
(You're inspired me to write about this incident! And, I will.)
That hope! Yes. We should give where we feel called to give. Thanks for your post, too, David.