I had cruised through the back alley to the parking lot of one craft store and then zipped down to the other end, my hunt proving unfruitful at both places. As I walked back to my car, I saw a man and a sign.
I didn’t need my perfect vision to see the writing.
I was prepared.
In my car for the last month has sat gallon sized bags eager to be given away. I assembled them out of the bounty of my own drawers- it practically cost me nothing to make them.
I was eager then but a month later they remained still un-given. I had even recently thought how pathetic of a life I had that I didn’t cross paths with someone needing one. None of my daily errands took me to places where lives were lived in the out. I wondered if my community was taking such good care of them that they didn’t need cardboard and a marker.
But today I saw.
And I sat in my car for more than a moment contemplating what to do.
How do I give it? What do I say? Do I get out of my car? There’s nothing in here but a few barely enough essentials. Will that even help him at all?
It is amazing how much a Ziploc bag can say in its silence.
You can’t make up some blessing bags, tote them in your car and then not give them.
I asked if my offering would be helpful.
He said Merry Christmas to me.
Our eyes met but mine fell away first, my welling up ready to overflow.
I was sad for his pain.
But, oh, I was ashamed. For not dying to myself faster. For my good, Christian charity which really meant my piety. For thinking I was thankful for him just so I could give away one of my bags!
I drove away, humbled.
God had wanted my “yes”. He wanted me to practice. To see.
Today was a moment caught seeing.