So, I gave a homeless woman my hat last week.
I spent a day in Toronto, visiting my dear friend Naomi. I had to walk to get to her place, so I definitely passed many homeless individuals. I had no food with me and felt overwhelmed; there were too many. Too many cold, homeless people. Too many wealthy ones walking past.
I stopped when a young woman approached me. Her legs were like toothpicks and she wore an over-sized coat. Her hair was dark and matted on her head. Her face was covered in scabs. "Excuse me. Hi. I'm homeless. I weight 68 pounds and have lupus. I'm cold and I'm hungry. Can you help me?" Her voice was high-pitched; was she even out of her teenage years?
I wasn't sure what to do, so the first thing out of my mouth was, "Do you want my hat?" She smiled faintly and said that'd be great, but wondered if I had anything else. I didn't-- or so I said and then I went on my way, hatless.
I instantly felt colder and had to pull my hood over my head. I shivered and felt good that I had given her my hat. She probably needed it more than I did. And this good feeling lasted a whole three seconds.
Why didn't I give her my scarf? Or my gloves? Or even my coat? Why the hat? And it didn't take long for the answer to become quite clear. Too clear. Clearly, not the scarf. It was my favourite scarf and certainly my warmest one. My gloves? No way. My grandparents gave those to me for Christmas, and I hadn't found gloves this warm before. Why not my coat? That'd be crazy. I'd be coatless walking around Toronto and besides, it was my warmest winter coat. My only winter coat. I didn't give her my other articles of clothing because they were my favourite and/or my warmest. Yet, the hat was an easy gift. It didn't take much thought, effort or sacrifice. I had seven others sitting at home in my closet, and besides, I didn't even like that one that much anyway.
Is this what most of my giving is like? Do I give away things that cost me nothing? Things I'll never even miss? Do I even know what it's like to give away something that I'll miss dearly? Something that I can't replace? Something that I only have one of?
Jesus calls us to sacrificial giving, but I wonder if I've ever done that in my life. Ever given until it hurt? After it hurt? I can't possibly be surrounded by so much excess so that I can simply enjoy a comfortable life. That cannot be why.
I spent a day in Toronto, visiting my dear friend Naomi. I had to walk to get to her place, so I definitely passed many homeless individuals. I had no food with me and felt overwhelmed; there were too many. Too many cold, homeless people. Too many wealthy ones walking past.
I stopped when a young woman approached me. Her legs were like toothpicks and she wore an over-sized coat. Her hair was dark and matted on her head. Her face was covered in scabs. "Excuse me. Hi. I'm homeless. I weight 68 pounds and have lupus. I'm cold and I'm hungry. Can you help me?" Her voice was high-pitched; was she even out of her teenage years?
I wasn't sure what to do, so the first thing out of my mouth was, "Do you want my hat?" She smiled faintly and said that'd be great, but wondered if I had anything else. I didn't-- or so I said and then I went on my way, hatless.
I instantly felt colder and had to pull my hood over my head. I shivered and felt good that I had given her my hat. She probably needed it more than I did. And this good feeling lasted a whole three seconds.
Why didn't I give her my scarf? Or my gloves? Or even my coat? Why the hat? And it didn't take long for the answer to become quite clear. Too clear. Clearly, not the scarf. It was my favourite scarf and certainly my warmest one. My gloves? No way. My grandparents gave those to me for Christmas, and I hadn't found gloves this warm before. Why not my coat? That'd be crazy. I'd be coatless walking around Toronto and besides, it was my warmest winter coat. My only winter coat. I didn't give her my other articles of clothing because they were my favourite and/or my warmest. Yet, the hat was an easy gift. It didn't take much thought, effort or sacrifice. I had seven others sitting at home in my closet, and besides, I didn't even like that one that much anyway.
Is this what most of my giving is like? Do I give away things that cost me nothing? Things I'll never even miss? Do I even know what it's like to give away something that I'll miss dearly? Something that I can't replace? Something that I only have one of?
Jesus calls us to sacrificial giving, but I wonder if I've ever done that in my life. Ever given until it hurt? After it hurt? I can't possibly be surrounded by so much excess so that I can simply enjoy a comfortable life. That cannot be why.
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