I'm not a very brave person, on many occasions and in many situations. I'm thinking presently that it may have to do not so much with actual courage but rather with onslaught of sensations that come with certain settings that I'm not built to bear well. Introvert's defense mechanisms, so to speak. I do have a rather revved-up capacity to feel things and to absorb emotions and grievances, to project them onto myself... I've known sympathy; I'm not certain I've always been able to convert it to empathy. Plenty of times I suffer from inability to be brave enough to face the very objects of it, the people behind the problems I hold urgent and important.
Tonight I'm trying to capture a beautiful moment that was born out of my sympathy - and was carried through by my child's inborn, natural capacity for empathy. A month or so ago, while shopping in Target with Jack, on a whim we've picked up some of the contents of care packages for the homeless, a thought born, as are many ideas now, on the interwebs. Maya was sick that day, so when we got home, to spare her boredom as she stayed cocooned in my bed, I've asked her to put all ten gift bags together - in each, some toothpaste & a toothbrush; an energy bar; some hand sanitizer, Altoids, and Chapstick; and a note she wrote herself with a simple Christmas wish, together with a $5 Subway gift card. She took great care in putting them together... and afterwards, they sat on our windowsill for a number of weeks as our pre-holiday rush took over.
Every couple of days, Maya would ask - when are we going to deliver the gift bags to the homeless? There were even a couple of preplanned yet foiled attempts by Allan to get downtown, but still something got in the way. We did end up putting all of them in the back of the Sienna just to have handy - and today, they finally found their destination, as we exited OMSI and Allan drove back to the bridge where we saw a small tent village on the way to the museum.
I never intended to leave the car as Allan stepped out to collect the bags and share them with a group of men standing outside the tents; I'm still intensely uncomfortable with problems I cannot solve fully, set straight completely... but Maya would not stay back. Hearing that the men wanted to thank the kids, she jumped out of the van and joined her Dad as they walked through the tents to hand out the rest of the packages. In just a few moments they were back, and we pulled out from underneath the bridge back on the road - and saw a man on a bike, undoubtedly from the tents, keeping pace with the van and signaling for us to lower the window. When we stopped, not unkindly, he asked if we might have just one more bag... Allan had to say we didn't, and he smiled, nodded, wished us a happy new year, and turned back. We drove in silence for a few moments, and when I turned around to Maya, she was fighting back tears - seeing that I saw her, she cried. "Mama, I'm so sad we didn't have a bag for him. I'm so sad we couldn't help him."
And then we all cried. I couldn't help reacting to her reaction; even Allan's eyes were not dry as we drove on. A few moments later, Maya exclaimed, "My money! I could have given him my money!" - she has brought with her a tiny puppy wallet filled to the brim with coins she intended to use for a toy. And cried again, and asked to have a private moment.
We've discussed going back with food. With warm clothes, and blankets. Maya remembered a very young person (Allan said it was a teenage girl) by herself in a tent with a pit bull. And we know these gestures would be a drop in a giant bucket. But for this child of mine, although I never wish for her tears, I hope she knows that every movement toward suffering is a gesture of hope; that a heart that knows sorrow and compassion is all I ever want for her, beyond her own health and safety; and that her faith and absolutely boundless kindness are far beyond my own. I pray that our God walks with her where I fail; expands her heart when and where my own fears limit me; and that I continue to watch her grow foolishly, endlessly kind - and brave.
I may have fallen through on all my better intentions this Christmas season. To 'adopt' a family with gifts; to share with the homeless; to skimp out on helping a sick friend with some necessities... I may have gotten, conveniently, too busy, or too comfortable. But with these eyes watching me, learning what's important, I simply can't. What I say to her about kindness and sharing of blessings will matter very little if it is not lived right in front of her, not lived with and by her. She does not yet know that she's my reason for giving - she who teaches me more about Christ that perhaps I am teaching her.
No comments:
Post a Comment