“You have not lived today until you have done something for someone who can never repay you.” ~ John Bunyan

When my children were younger

We used to visit our friends for play dates.  Whenever it would involve a certain friend, her children would bring a gift for our children.

When I say gift, I don't mean a piece of candy or a picture that they had drawn.  These would be $30 gifts - brand new, unopened, from Toys'R Us.

It was so kind, but it was overwhelming.  I didn't expect that kind of generosity, and I certainly couldn't afford to reciprocate it. I felt bad and one day, I tried to firmly refuse the gifts. I told her how much we appreciated her always willing to do these things, but we simply couldn't keep accepting the gifts like this!

Without a moment's hesitation, she turned so that her children couldn't hear her hushed voice.  As she spoke the next unforgettable words, her eyes held so much kindness and her voice carried so much loving understanding. 

"Please don't do that.  It's really important to us as parents that we teach our children to give generously.  Please don't inhibit that."

If there was an ounce of ego or a flash of indignant pride in her statement, I would have dismissed her words and held firm.  What I saw, however, was sincerity, warmth, love, and humility. It not only changed my mind about accepting the gifts, but also changed my mind how we were being examples of generosity to our children.

Years later, I would cringe as my young children would give EVERYTHING that they had saved in a month to a homeless person on the street.  My jaded heart couldn't help but peek to which face was on the bill that they handed over.

Instead of immediately snatching it back, I quietly would ask them about their motivation to do so.  Their words would always humble my heart.  In their own child-like paraphrase, they would be explaining how it was better to give than receive.  Explaining it to me - their mother. I wasn't teaching them to be generous.  They were teaching me.

Wrestling through this each time was difficult, but a lesson that I was bound and determined to learn.  I began to also give until it hurt.  Strangely, the hurt was momentary.  What remained and spread was the glow of giving, and the love that was shared, and the honor that God would choose me to be a participant in this living lesson.  There were times when someone would receive the donation with such honest thanks, that it would connect our hearts instantly.  The giving and receiving weren't separate acts.  They were two sides of one coin that both parties touched simultaneously.

There were times when I watched as my children had a different experience - times when others took advantage of their generosity.  The tiger in me rose immediately to defend my children and attack the predators of life.  I remember vividly when my son had given a woman enough money to drive at least 500 miles. The woman took his money, walked around some other cars and began to beg for more money.  Instead of attacking, I chose to breathe, sheathe my claws, and ask my son about what had just happened.

"Well, I think if she had really needed the money for gas to get home, she would have taken what I gave her to put gas in her car.  But she didn't.  She went and asked for more money from other people.  I saw her."

"Yeah, I agree.  Do you feel angry for giving her money?"

"I think she did that because she thinks I'm a kid, and I don't know any better.  I'm more angry that she would do that to a kid.  I worked hard for that money.  I think I'll just be a little cautious now.  There are probably people who'll try to try to do that again.  It makes me mad.  But it won't make me stop giving."

How is it possible that these experiences feel like they're teaching me more than they're teaching my children?  

We had the most insane 24 hours yesterday.  That's a subject for the next post, but I'll tell you a bit of what happened.  As I was shopping, my daughter (who is now 15) separated from me and went to get her own shopping done.  I couldn't find her by the time I was ready to checkout, so I figured we would meet up in the car.   As I was bagging the last item, I heard a familiar voice.  

"Hi Mama"

"Oh! There you are!  I thought maybe you had already gone to the car."  I perused over her items: drinks, granola bars, boxes of snacks - she must be filling her "store" for the neighborhood kids to buy in the MicroWorld that they had created.

She finished paying, put her bag in my cart and we started walking to the car together.  As soon as the doors opened, before us was a family.  The dad held a sign and kept repeating the words, "money, food?", while the mom sat against the pillar and looked away with what seemed to be embarassment.  The beautiful baby girl who was barely walking, waved to everyone.  Her little voice was filled with joy as she was completely unaware of their predicament.  She was intent on greeting everyone who passed with a continual, bubbly mantra of "Hi! Hi! Hi!" 

My heart broke.  I had just paid for our cart of supplies with my ATM card and didn't have even a dime in my pocket or my wallet.  What should I do?   As I was getting closer to them, my heart filled with anxiety.   

"I'll be right there, Mama."

My daughter grabbed her bag out of my cart, and walked behind me to reach them.  She didn't take out a box of treats to share - she gave them the entire bag. My heart absolutely burst with so many emotions.

The man took the bag with gratitude, and we continued to our car.  When a respectful distance had passed, she spoke first.  

"Wasn't that so cool?!"

"Yes! I didn't even see them on the way in!"

"They weren't there."

"How did you know to buy something for them?"

"I wasn't buying it for them.  I was buying it to be prepared.  I was going to keep it in the car, but they were right there!"

"That is amazing!!!"

"I know!!!!!!"

What an incredible honor to be the mother of these children.

On our last stop before home, we had one more shop to visit.  I was exhausted.  It was so late, we had been running around all day.  Ninety minutes of driving was still ahead of me after this last shop.  I just wanted to get home.   I assumed the kids would stay in the car. (15 and 17 - haha, don't panic!)  No.  My sweet "shadow"girl always comes in with me, no matter what.

We separated again, and I assumed she was getting some candy for the ride home.

When we met up at the checkout, once again, her cart was once again filled with the same items from the afternoon.

When I grow up, I want to be generous like them.

*Text separators created by me, using the Rosette110621 font*