Christmas of Compassion Sun, 23rd December, 2012
Latasha's children are sleeping in their own beds this Christmas. Thanks to the generosity of friends and a U-Haul pickup truck, my family was able to deliver a substantial portion of this needy family's wish list on Friday afternoon.
As is my practice, I left too much to do on the last day. But as UU minister Margret O'Neall has said, anything worth doing is worth doing at the last minute. The old bed frames were extracted from the garage and basement, cleaned up with Tim Barklage's Better Life Oakey Dokey wood cleaner, and all parts and pieces were verified. Yes, these old beds inherited from Mike Nolan's mother, would live another day. I confess I even set up one of the twin beds in its entirety on the driveway and sat down on it for a moment, imagining what the child for whom it was intended might be feeling when she did the same that night. The mattress and box spring sets had arrived Thursday night and were staged in the garage near the old bed frames that would soon be their long-time companions.
Meredith managed to find Owen's old bike, which had been relegated to the back of the dusty and leaf-strewn garage, which to be honest resembles more of on old barn than an actual shelter for automobiles. The royal blue metal gleamed once again after some dusting off and, with some air in the tires, stood ready for new adventures.
The pickup load was a motley assortment of old and new, but carefully selected to match the family's wish list as closely as possible while living within the available budget. While Owen and I loaded the truck, Betsy and Meredith played Santa, stuffing three stockings, wrapping the children's gifts, and writing their names on the packages. Yes, writing their names. That alone is a powerful spiritual practice. The names of these children, Jabrie, Anye and Tanye, would be spoken and remembered this Christmas.
This was another stepping stone in my unfolding spiritual journey—another step toward integrating my professed beliefs and my actions in the real world. It can be too easy to focus on ourselves and our own immediate circle. Not that there's anything wrong with devotion to our own communities, both spiritual and physical. But if we profess the worth and dignity of all people, then we are called to compassionate service of all humankind. As the native Americans have taught us, if someone is in need and we are able to help, it is our sacred obligation to give generously.
This reaching out felt really good, not because it assuaged guilt or simply fulfilled a pledge, but because it was based in true compassion and served as an expression of our most deeply held principles. Again, I give my daughter the credit for taking the first step, which was to see and name the needs of these families, and channel her wellspring of compassion into a simple yet powerful act of generosity.
May we all truly live our values in this holiday season and, indeed, every day of our lives. Merry Christmas, peace and love to all.
Latasha's children are sleeping in their own beds this Christmas. Thanks to the generosity of friends and a U-Haul pickup truck, my family was able to deliver a substantial portion of this needy family's wish list on Friday afternoon.
As is my practice, I left too much to do on the last day. But as UU minister Margret O'Neall has said, anything worth doing is worth doing at the last minute. The old bed frames were extracted from the garage and basement, cleaned up with Tim Barklage's Better Life Oakey Dokey wood cleaner, and all parts and pieces were verified. Yes, these old beds inherited from Mike Nolan's mother, would live another day. I confess I even set up one of the twin beds in its entirety on the driveway and sat down on it for a moment, imagining what the child for whom it was intended might be feeling when she did the same that night. The mattress and box spring sets had arrived Thursday night and were staged in the garage near the old bed frames that would soon be their long-time companions.
Meredith managed to find Owen's old bike, which had been relegated to the back of the dusty and leaf-strewn garage, which to be honest resembles more of on old barn than an actual shelter for automobiles. The royal blue metal gleamed once again after some dusting off and, with some air in the tires, stood ready for new adventures.
The pickup load was a motley assortment of old and new, but carefully selected to match the family's wish list as closely as possible while living within the available budget. While Owen and I loaded the truck, Betsy and Meredith played Santa, stuffing three stockings, wrapping the children's gifts, and writing their names on the packages. Yes, writing their names. That alone is a powerful spiritual practice. The names of these children, Jabrie, Anye and Tanye, would be spoken and remembered this Christmas.
This was another stepping stone in my unfolding spiritual journey—another step toward integrating my professed beliefs and my actions in the real world. It can be too easy to focus on ourselves and our own immediate circle. Not that there's anything wrong with devotion to our own communities, both spiritual and physical. But if we profess the worth and dignity of all people, then we are called to compassionate service of all humankind. As the native Americans have taught us, if someone is in need and we are able to help, it is our sacred obligation to give generously.
This reaching out felt really good, not because it assuaged guilt or simply fulfilled a pledge, but because it was based in true compassion and served as an expression of our most deeply held principles. Again, I give my daughter the credit for taking the first step, which was to see and name the needs of these families, and channel her wellspring of compassion into a simple yet powerful act of generosity.
May we all truly live our values in this holiday season and, indeed, every day of our lives. Merry Christmas, peace and love to all.