God Giving
I never wanted to be my mother when I grew up. I guess I felt I was destine for “greater things”. Maybe its that she wore sneakers all the time, something even as a child, I considered a fashion crime. Maybe its that her coat didn’t match her hat and gloves. I don’t recall anymore. Really, as a kid I didn’t want to bake 10 fruitcakes for friends and then put on my threadbare coat and mismatched accessories and go deliver them in the upstate New York chill. Nope. I was destined for greater things. Whatever the notion, I look back now and I realize I was wrong. We all express love in different ways and hers was through hard work. It took me well into my 40’s to understand that. Her utilitarian no fuss hard working ways were a part of her rural upbringing and it meant I love you. My folks have been married for 61 years. They have raised children, babysat others children, taught Sunday school, sang in choirs, visited nursing homes and for the last 38 years have delivered meals on wheels.
My father is not doing well these days and I sat with Mom having tea as she updated me. She said he didn’t think he could deliver meals anymore. This made her sad. She wanted to continue. She is 83, older than the majority of people she delivers to. I suggested that maybe she could find a new partner, but that time together was their time out of the house, a sort of date they kept each Wednesday afternoon. The time includes relationships formed while delivering, friends at the center who, I think, secretly look out for my folks, and lunch at a favorite restaurant after the work is complete. Time was drawing to a close.
I asked her what was the best part about delivering meals and without a beat she exclaimed “Oh EVERYTHING! There were so many friendships and people we became family with because we were just there. God put us on this earth to help one another. So just EVERYTHING!”
I began wondering about the secret to age, longevity and happiness. Did my mom have the key all these years? Giving themselves in love to others in some small or unexpected way seemed to keep my parents going and independent. It fueled their social life and their worth. Heck it even fueled the romance. There is a joy that surges through your spirit when your offering impacts the well being of another. You can’t help but smile, and a smile will always keep you young. The notion that we are here specifically to help one another is something we, or maybe it’s just I, almost need to train our brains for. Today we sit with our noses in our phones and don’t see what is happening right in front of us. A small box acting as an invisible shield. I have the unfortunate luxury of riding a subway a lot. I can’t breathe in a crowded tube so I play a game and keep my head up and look for funky fashion and have singles ready to give to the harmonies of those asking for cash. But It is easy to look occupied in the face of another’s need. Maybe we get asked to much.
To add to that, we appear to be standing in a nation divided. What would happen if we each gave, despite politics or personal ideology? What if we just gave to one another? I am positive my parents fed many people they don’t agree with over the years. They did so because an old man sat with his wife literally frozen from MS and he needed help. Because an elderly woman was lonely. They did so to check on someone whose health was failing and make sure they were alive, dressed and warm, as no one else ever stopped by anymore. During those years of delivery they saw a lot of hard things. They lost most everyone they delivered to as time inevitably wins.
There is no way I can write anything to do justice to 38 years of dedicated service to the elderly. None. What I can do however is pick up the mantle and serve.