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Write Now!
This blog started as a 'Lenten Writing Project', where we wrote each day in Lent. Now that Summer is here, let's keep up the discipline of writing with a weekly writing challenge! A prompt will be posted each week and anyone is welcome to join in and post their writing here or participate just by reading it.
Every writer has their own special light to add to this blog and all of your writing offerings are appreciated, whether poetry, prose, essay, thoughts, lists or comments and encouragement.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Lenten Writing Prompt #30
What is an experience you had in giving something away? What is a 'giving experience' that you would you like to participate in one day?
I have seen it more developed however, in those of limited means, who for all intents and purposes live in poverty.
We have all heard stories of those who go on mission trips to underdeveloped parts of the world or those who go to disaster struck areas in order to help those victims. The stories often include a time when someone who has very little materially gives what he does have to the person who had come there to help them. The receiver often feels humbled by the gift and wonders then, who is helping whom.
I lived in Mexico with a local, large, poor, but happy family for a short time and when it came time for my departure the grandmother of the family gave me her shawl to take home. She had little else to give and at the time I did not truly appreciate the gift. Over time I came to realize what she had actually given me. Her gift went beyond a mere token, she gave also of herself.
I still have that shawl, kept as a reminder of the generosity of spirit shown to me but which I doubt I have shown to others.
The year I lived in Conga, Africa, I learned some things about giving. First, I learned the importance of giving what a person needs instead of what one thinks they need. Second, I learned the importance of giving with no strings attached.
Within my first two weeks in Pointe Noire, several other American women offered to show me around. They were wives of the American oil company’s executives, and I was newly hired to be the school teacher for their children.
I got a phone call one morning. “We are going up to Diosso to the little village. We have some things to give to the people there. Would you like to ride along?”
We drove about an hour to a tiny, impoverished area north of the city. The rutted red clay road was rough and dusty as it wound into the village. We saw small buildings with no windows and very small doors. The buildings were placed randomly around a cleared dirt area, with laughing children running and playing. The walls of the one-room houses were a single layer of boards, through which we could see into the room and out the other side, as the boards did not fit tightly together.
Some of the children came running toward the car, smiling and holding out their hands. The women had bags of wrapped candy and began tossing them out the windows of the car. Then an older woman came out from one of the buildings toward our car. Our driver shoved a bag of clothes and food toward her. After waiting a few minutes, we began to drive away.
I didn’t know what to think of this – it was all so strange to me. But then the other women began to talk about their feelings. “They didn’t even say ‘thank you’”, said one. Another proclaimed, “Why don’t they act grateful for what we do for them?” The third woman stated, “I am never giving these natives anything again. They don’t appreciate us.”
I was surprised by their words, as my heart ached for the villagers. I couldn’t understand why these American women were so upset about not being thanked. None of the villagers spoke English, and the Americans had not tried to communicate except in English. No one had apparently done anything to learn what we might give the villagers that would help them. And finally, was their reason for giving so they would be thanked?
As we drove back to town, they continued to talk about the ungratefulness of the ‘natives’. When the women were ready to drop me off, they asked me if I had learned how useless it was to try to help ungrateful natives.
I felt speechless as I thanked them for inviting me along. But I thought to myself, when I give, I will try to first learn what it is the recipient needs, and then I will try to give it with no strings attached.
Generally like like giving things away. Gifts, old things we aren't using anymore, things that people need, etc
There is one experience that I had where I gave a jacket away to someone who needed it more than me. It was a jacket I really liked. And after I gave it to him I was sad that I did. Part of me still misses that jacket. It's the oddest feeling. It happened years ago and part of me still misses that jacket. I have bought many jackets since and will likely buy more but that one has some kind of hold on me.
The best I can get from this is that some gifts are sacrificial - and most of mine aren't (first world problem).
I guess the experience that I would like to have is to live much more simply than I do and to have much more to give. I've made small steps and I suppose that is where most grand journey's and hoped for experiences begin. Simple beginnings to a simple life.
One way to teach your children to be giving to others is by modeling that yourself. However, when there is a ‘gray area’, it can be hard to explain. My daughters are 5 and 2 and one day, I was picking my oldest up from a class at a local Episcopalian church that I know and love. While my oldest was in her science class, I had gone to the grocery store for bread, bananas and apples. You know – the staples. Minus peanut butter. It is embarrassing to admit that I had written a check for the groceries that I hoped would be cashed the following day …on payday, but we were out of some basics so I risked an overdraft fee.
We were the last ones to leave the parking lot on a late afternoon due to a complicated diaper situation from the 2 year old. As I finished buckling both my girls into the car, I noticed a woman, leaning over the railing, trying to get my attention. She was a heavyset woman that I had never seen before and in the back of my mind I noted: she was sweating on this day that was sunny, but not hot. The lady said that she needed money and asked if I had some. She said that she had three kids at home, but she didn’t know what she was going to do because she didn’t have any money for food for them. I asked if she had talked to the staff in the office. She said that she tried, but they couldn’t help her and told her to go away. Then she started crying. That’s when I got what I tell my kid is the ‘whoopsie’ feeling in the pit of my stomach. I didn’t feel she was telling the truth, knowing the staff of this church, it didn’t sound like something they would do or say. But what if she was telling the truth. Still, the feeling at the pit of my stomach made me glad that I didn’t have anything in my wallet to open up in front of her with my two kids in the car, watching all of this intently. I did want to help her in case she was telling the truth somehow – if her sweatiness and vacant demeanor was not due to drug use but due to walking from the bus stop, due to an illness, or due to…who knows? Also, my kids are watching. I don’t want to put them at risk if she’s not a safe person, but I do want to help because if she is telling the truth, I want to handle this in the same way I would want my kids to handle it if they were faced with the same situation. (To be continued...)
(...continued)“Well…” I said, “I don’t have any money, but I do have some bananas, bread and apples, if you want them. Do you want them?” I got them out of the back of the car and handed the bag toward her, “here, take it” I said quietly. The lady didn’t move, but she kept her hands out – frozen. I sort of hooked the bag gently over her still-extended hand and said something like ‘have a nice day’. I was confused – what would Jesus have done? Would he have had more clarity as to the lady’s motives or did that even matter? I went away with questions but satisfied that no matter what, that food would be able to nourish the woman in a healthy way…and maybe her kids as well – if she had them. I knew we had plenty more food in the pantry to eat before tomorrow. I had some conversations with my oldest daughter about what happened – the lady wanted money, I didn’t have any to give, but she also gave me a ‘whoopsie’ feeling, so I gave her some food and went on my way because I wasn’t sure if she was a safe person, but I did want to help her in a safe way. She still asks about it and tries to process that scenario in a way that makes sense to her developing awareness.
My kids and I also give food and supplies and pictures and even Girl Scout cookies to Tent City, who currently is living very conveniently for us at our church. My daughters are able to walk with me to the now-familiar tents and smile and talk to the people there and get to know that the people living there are people just like us. We pray for them at night – especially during bad weather - and at this point, my oldest daughter considers Tent City to be HER Tent City. Not as ownership – but it’s part of her community. Her world. There are many different ways to give to others and I hope to teach my daughters that there is a way to be open and to help in different ways. Also that it is all a bit complicated – and that complicated-feeling is possibly to keep us from the smugness of feeling that we have all the answers of ‘handling the poor’. The terminology in itself is a loaded one and the fascinating expansive gray areas in this commandment to love one another is one that I hope my kids embrace.
We give because we know it’s right and good; so taught the Christ we follow; so prompts the Spark of God within us.
Yet like numerous particles of dust, questions swarm and wiggle into our conscious gray matter and stir it. Is it really needed? Does it really help? Does it reach the right people? Is it enabling? Do I have enough to spare?
“Give them something.” “There’s too many. Send them away.” “Feed them.” “What? How?” A child answered with his meager portion and a miracle took place.
No matter the need or what I have to give-- food, money, things, time, a piece of myself, prayer, advocacy, resources, advice, forgiveness, love— when I step up and make way for the Spirit to use , gifts I didn’t know I had in me come forth.
(While I was the Volunteer Coordinator at Foss Home & Village, I saw it so often. Volunteers so often came wanting to help, often unsure of whether they would be good at making a difference in the lives of men and women who lived there. And miracles happen, over and over, as they continue for years—giving themselves and as they always say, receiving more than they give away.)
by Pat Mason
ReplyDeleteThere exists a generosity of spirit in all of us.
I have seen it more developed however, in those of limited means, who for all intents and purposes live in poverty.
We have all heard stories of those who go on mission trips to underdeveloped parts of the world or those who go to disaster struck areas in order to help those victims. The stories often include a time when someone who has very little materially gives what he does have to the person who had come there to help them. The receiver often feels humbled by the gift and wonders then, who is helping whom.
I lived in Mexico with a local, large, poor, but happy family for a short time and when it came time for my departure the grandmother of the family gave me her shawl to take home. She had little else to give and at the time I did not truly appreciate the gift. Over time I came to realize what she had actually given me. Her gift went beyond a mere token, she gave also of herself.
I still have that shawl, kept as a reminder of the generosity of spirit shown to me but which I doubt I have shown to others.
The year I lived in Conga, Africa, I learned some things about giving. First, I learned the importance of giving what a person needs instead of what one thinks they need. Second, I learned the importance of giving with no strings attached.
ReplyDeleteWithin my first two weeks in Pointe Noire, several other American women offered to show me around. They were wives of the American oil company’s executives, and I was newly hired to be the school teacher for their children.
I got a phone call one morning. “We are going up to Diosso to the little village. We have some things to give to the people there. Would you like to ride along?”
We drove about an hour to a tiny, impoverished area north of the city. The rutted red clay road was rough and dusty as it wound into the village. We saw small buildings with no windows and very small doors. The buildings were placed randomly around a cleared dirt area, with laughing children running and playing. The walls of the one-room houses were a single layer of boards, through which we could see into the room and out the other side, as the boards did not fit tightly together.
Some of the children came running toward the car, smiling and holding out their hands. The women had bags of wrapped candy and began tossing them out the windows of the car. Then an older woman came out from one of the buildings toward our car. Our driver shoved a bag of clothes and food toward her. After waiting a few minutes, we began to drive away.
I didn’t know what to think of this – it was all so strange to me. But then the other women began to talk about their feelings. “They didn’t even say ‘thank you’”, said one. Another proclaimed, “Why don’t they act grateful for what we do for them?” The third woman stated, “I am never giving these natives anything again. They don’t appreciate us.”
I was surprised by their words, as my heart ached for the villagers. I couldn’t understand why these American women were so upset about not being thanked. None of the villagers spoke English, and the Americans had not tried to communicate except in English. No one had apparently done anything to learn what we might give the villagers that would help them. And finally, was their reason for giving so they would be thanked?
As we drove back to town, they continued to talk about the ungratefulness of the ‘natives’. When the women were ready to drop me off, they asked me if I had learned how useless it was to try to help ungrateful natives.
I felt speechless as I thanked them for inviting me along. But I thought to myself, when I give, I will try to first learn what it is the recipient needs, and then I will try to give it with no strings attached.
Generally like like giving things away. Gifts, old things we aren't using anymore, things that people need, etc
ReplyDeleteThere is one experience that I had where I gave a jacket away to someone who needed it more than me. It was a jacket I really liked. And after I gave it to him I was sad that I did. Part of me still misses that jacket. It's the oddest feeling. It happened years ago and part of me still misses that jacket. I have bought many jackets since and will likely buy more but that one has some kind of hold on me.
The best I can get from this is that some gifts are sacrificial - and most of mine aren't (first world problem).
I guess the experience that I would like to have is to live much more simply than I do and to have much more to give. I've made small steps and I suppose that is where most grand journey's and hoped for experiences begin. Simple beginnings to a simple life.
Give Unto Others
ReplyDeleteOne way to teach your children to be giving to others is by modeling that yourself. However, when there is a ‘gray area’, it can be hard to explain. My daughters are 5 and 2 and one day, I was picking my oldest up from a class at a local Episcopalian church that I know and love. While my oldest was in her science class, I had gone to the grocery store for bread, bananas and apples. You know – the staples. Minus peanut butter. It is embarrassing to admit that I had written a check for the groceries that I hoped would be cashed the following day …on payday, but we were out of some basics so I risked an overdraft fee.
We were the last ones to leave the parking lot on a late afternoon due to a complicated diaper situation from the 2 year old. As I finished buckling both my girls into the car, I noticed a woman, leaning over the railing, trying to get my attention. She was a heavyset woman that I had never seen before and in the back of my mind I noted: she was sweating on this day that was sunny, but not hot. The lady said that she needed money and asked if I had some. She said that she had three kids at home, but she didn’t know what she was going to do because she didn’t have any money for food for them. I asked if she had talked to the staff in the office. She said that she tried, but they couldn’t help her and told her to go away. Then she started crying. That’s when I got what I tell my kid is the ‘whoopsie’ feeling in the pit of my stomach. I didn’t feel she was telling the truth, knowing the staff of this church, it didn’t sound like something they would do or say. But what if she was telling the truth. Still, the feeling at the pit of my stomach made me glad that I didn’t have anything in my wallet to open up in front of her with my two kids in the car, watching all of this intently. I did want to help her in case she was telling the truth somehow – if her sweatiness and vacant demeanor was not due to drug use but due to walking from the bus stop, due to an illness, or due to…who knows? Also, my kids are watching. I don’t want to put them at risk if she’s not a safe person, but I do want to help because if she is telling the truth, I want to handle this in the same way I would want my kids to handle it if they were faced with the same situation. (To be continued...)
(...continued)“Well…” I said, “I don’t have any money, but I do have some bananas, bread and apples, if you want them. Do you want them?” I got them out of the back of the car and handed the bag toward her, “here, take it” I said quietly. The lady didn’t move, but she kept her hands out – frozen. I sort of hooked the bag gently over her still-extended hand and said something like ‘have a nice day’. I was confused – what would Jesus have done? Would he have had more clarity as to the lady’s motives or did that even matter? I went away with questions but satisfied that no matter what, that food would be able to nourish the woman in a healthy way…and maybe her kids as well – if she had them. I knew we had plenty more food in the pantry to eat before tomorrow. I had some conversations with my oldest daughter about what happened – the lady wanted money, I didn’t have any to give, but she also gave me a ‘whoopsie’ feeling, so I gave her some food and went on my way because I wasn’t sure if she was a safe person, but I did want to help her in a safe way. She still asks about it and tries to process that scenario in a way that makes sense to her developing awareness.
ReplyDeleteMy kids and I also give food and supplies and pictures and even Girl Scout cookies to Tent City, who currently is living very conveniently for us at our church. My daughters are able to walk with me to the now-familiar tents and smile and talk to the people there and get to know that the people living there are people just like us. We pray for them at night – especially during bad weather - and at this point, my oldest daughter considers Tent City to be HER Tent City. Not as ownership – but it’s part of her community. Her world. There are many different ways to give to others and I hope to teach my daughters that there is a way to be open and to help in different ways. Also that it is all a bit complicated – and that complicated-feeling is possibly to keep us from the smugness of feeling that we have all the answers of ‘handling the poor’. The terminology in itself is a loaded one and the fascinating expansive gray areas in this commandment to love one another is one that I hope my kids embrace.
Look Out - Gifts Passing Through
ReplyDeleteby Marlene Obie
We give because we know it’s right and good;
so taught the Christ we follow;
so prompts the Spark of God within us.
Yet like numerous particles of dust,
questions swarm and wiggle into
our conscious gray matter and stir it.
Is it really needed? Does it really help?
Does it reach the right people?
Is it enabling? Do I have enough to spare?
“Give them something.”
“There’s too many. Send them away.”
“Feed them.” “What? How?”
A child answered with his meager portion
and a miracle took place.
No matter the need or what I have to give--
food, money, things, time, a piece of myself, prayer,
advocacy, resources, advice, forgiveness, love—
when I step up and make way for the Spirit to use ,
gifts I didn’t know I had in me come forth.
(While I was the Volunteer Coordinator at Foss Home & Village, I saw it so often. Volunteers so often came wanting to help, often unsure of whether they would be good at making a difference in the lives of men and women who lived there. And miracles happen, over and over, as they continue for years—giving themselves and as they always say, receiving more than they give away.)