Looking back into the early years of motherhood, the realization that from every lesson taught, personal enlightenment will often ensue. That was the case when I dug my heels in and insisted, “No More Empty Holidays!” The insipid selfish glut of material gain could no longer be the legacy of our family Christmas. My daughters had experienced many Christmas and Birthday celebrations surrounded in beautiful bright colored packages drinking in the full knowledge of their own importance. Many years I watched as they tore through their presents at a mad pace that could resemble a sharks feeding frenzy. Oh the shrieks of joy were notable and the thank yous did follow, however there was always the awkward end as they still cruised about the room as if scanning for just one more. They needed more, they needed the joy that comes from helping others, that would give full meaning to the Holidays and benefit them throughout life.
The private school the girls attended gave us the perfect opportunity, with the Adopt a Senior holiday program. Powered with enthusiasm, we drew three beneficiaries to provide care baskets and visit. Tera was 8 and Chelsey 6, the perfect age to share in the shopping for personal useful items and baking of cookies and bread. It was infectious; the more we did the happier and more excited we grew. Finally the day came, many families met in the School basement to load up on donated canned goods and food items to add to our baskets of joy.
Embarking on our benevolent edification journey for which I did not realize was my own enrichment as well as my daughters. The first house was a large majestic home in a well to do neighborhood that was beautifully decorated. I carried that basket ringing the doorbell as the girls looked bright eyed at the many decorations. A care taker answered the door and saw us in. We were greeted by an elderly woman in a wheel chair. She thanked us for the basket and immediately began conversing with the children. This left me with time to take in the beautiful view and furnishings, I could not help but wonder why she would be on my list, she obviously was well set and had need of nothing. When we arose to leave after a lengthy visit, she looked at me teary and asked, “Can I hug them?” “Of course, “Yes of course.” Each girl came forward, wrapped their small arms around her and gave the hug of human kindness. As we walked away, the caretaker said gently, “That meant so much to her. Thank you.” It was I who wanted to be thankful for I was given a new perspective of importance.
Our next stop was a smaller, Grandma’s house with a sweet warm woman who greeted us with such merriment. “Oh, come in from the cold. Can I get you some hot chocolate?” We accepted it eagerly and sat warming by her fire and listening to her stories of growing up in the mid-west in a family of seven children. I could not help but wonder why she seemed so alone now, she was so vibrant and full of life within her frail shell. Again our visit came to a close as she thanked us for the lovely basket, the conversation, and this time we all hugged. Finding a warm flow of generous good will abounding.
Darkness was upon us as we reached the last call on our list, it was Chelsey’s turn to carry the basket, she had patiently waited all day to deliver. As the car rolled to a stop, the girls and I sat quietly looking at a narrow brick home engulfed in overgrown shrubs. The gate was hanging by one hinge, and there were no lights on. The girls fell behind me as we went to the door. “If there is no one home, we will leave the basket on the porch,” I assured them. I pushed back an encroaching limb to knock on the door. Slowly the door opened, only to reveal a slim hunched man who had not seen a bath or clean clothes in awhile. It was hard to understand when he spoke; his mouth was unable to form the words. I imagined him to be in his nineties. It was difficult to enter the room. There were boxes stacked creating a small walkway, and there was no light, it wasn’t until he closed the door and pointed to a torn slumped couch that I realized he was nearly blind. Chelsey reached up to give him the basket, and he began to cry “For me?” We stood compassionate to his tears. I stumbled though clumsy attempts at conversation as I moved things for the girls to sit on the couch. Finally, our host motioned me into his kitchen. I felt my way down the cluttered path, and he handed me a light bulb. It was then that I saw his skin was so frail it was transparent. I also saw clearly to his heart. This was a man near the end of his life, and fate had cast him a hard hand. His name was George. He used to work for the railroad and raised his family. His wife had died, and his son had not been over in a long long time. Now reaching out to a stranger to “please” put a light bulb in for him. We put light in the kitchen, living room, hallway, and bathroom! Again, he took my hand and cried. I left that house with the experience of a lifetime ingrained forever in my heart. What was intended as a lesson in kindness and charity, turned into a life altering journey of service toward humanity. Walking in love and the spirit of giving is the real meaning of life and should be inspired daily.
Valerie Kelly
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