Lunch for the Homeless, as told by my brother

I asked my brother if I could share one of the stories I remember him telling when I a teenager and younger. He is one of those gifted storytellers that you just want to listen to all night long in front of the campfire. I remember a family reunion where we were all sitting around said campfire and were taking turns telling stories, except it was all one story. Where one person left off, the other would begin. My brother has a great balance of creativity/imagination and scientific knowledge, so when it was his turn, it was always very interesting. He could bring the 5 year-old's contribution to the story (then a fairy appeared and they flew up to the rainbow) back on track to the cool Star Trek-flavored plot that had us all ears. But he also has some stories that are valuable in their own way because they are real and show goodness and humanity.  The following story is lacking in the exciting, mind-boggling scientific phenomenon, but it is perfect in its simplicity.

I decided to post this in his own words. He didn't change his name, so I'll change it for him. Let's call him Fred. Short for Frederick, which is very classy. Because my brother is a classy person. Now my other siblings can try to figure out who Fred is. (But the Star Trek hint probably gave it away.)

Today as I was waiting in line at the food court, a homeless person approached me and in a very unassertive manner asked me..."if I could help him out." I asked specifically what he needed. The conversation went something like this:
Fred: What do you need?
Homeless Person: (pauses...) I would like a sandwich.
Fred: (Eying the McDonalds on the other side of the food court) How about a Big Mac?
HP: Well, (stammers...) could I have a milk shake instead?
Fred: Sure, anything you want, just name it.
HP: How about a large vanilla milk shake?
Fred: Is that it? You do look pretty hungry.
HP: Could I have a large milk shake and a Big Mac?
Fred: Sure, let's go get it for you.
We then went over to McDonalds and I purchased what we had agreed. I've never seen a more thankful person.

I don't understand what it is like to be truly hungry and destitute. I am thankful I don't. It makes me feel good to think of that man who received a warm meal. I don't know to what extent the man's circumstances were a result of his own poor choices or simply a rough hand dealt at no fault of his own. Thankfully that is not asked of us to determine. I only think of the scripture in Matthew 5:42: "Give to him that asketh."

The Gift of Introspection

Here's a story you don't hear everyday. I read this story in the Deseret News on August 15, 2011 in an article entitled "Act of forgiveness set Iranian woman free". I clipped it and saved it in my journal. It's the story of a woman by the name of Ameneh Bahrami who refused a man's proposal of marriage. He retaliated out of humiliation by pouring acid on her face, blinding her and disfiguring her once beautiful face. Even though women are largely not respected in the Middle East, the law still provided that she could execute justice, an eye for an eye. Literally. And she was given the go ahead to do this on live television. I didn't see it, but according to the article, she was about to follow through with her revenge when she changed her mind at the last minute. She chose to forgive him and show him some mercy. She did  not pour the acid on his face, and he left the spotlight unharmed. The article discusses how her act of forgiveness set her free, undoubtedly planting peace in her heart that giving the man justice couldln't touch. But I found myself wondering about the man. Was he changed by her act of love? If he has any decency in him at all, he couldn't help but be changed. Maybe he'll think twice before hurting someone so cruelly again. I admire Amaneh for making it possible for him to receive such a gift. Not just the gift of retaining his sight and supposedly good features, but the gift of introspection.

It reminds me of the story of Jean Valjean in Les Miserables. Unjustly imprisoned, he found that upon his release he was bitter and lacked the integrity he may have had at one time. Destitute, he petitioned a kindly priest for a bed for the night. The priest granted his petition with full trust. The priest wasn't blind to the nature of the man whom he was letting into his home, but undoubtedly he saw good and potential in Jean Valjean. Valjean, true to the nature imbred in him, made off during the night with a sack full of the priest's valuables. He was caught by the police and brought back to the doorstep of the home he had robbed. The priest held his life in his hands. He looked at Valjean, thought for a moment, and replied to the officer that he had, in fact, given the belongings to Valjean as a gift. Valjean was stunned. The officer let him go. Valjean was stunned at what had just happened, and he walked away a changed man. The priest had given him the gift of introspection.

I hope the unnamed Iranian man sees life differently now, and that he uses his eyesight to help rather than to hurt. But that is a side of the story we'll likely never hear. So, it remains to apply some self-introspection based on the side of the story we did hear. It is simply: do I forgive enough? If Amaneh can forgive on the grand scale she did, I can forgive more quickly on a small scale. And regardless if our forgiveness extended changes someone else, it allows for more happiness and peace of mind in ourselves.

Looking Outward in the Winter

Here's a story my husband requested I include in my collection. It's one of those simple, small acts of service bestowed on us during a bleak time that went a long way. Our first child, born severely premature in the fall, was still in the hospital during the winter. It was a black time of our lives. There were many unknowns concerning her future, and our emotions followed faithfully the ups and downs that a child 15 weeks premature goes through. We found it difficult to function in the other obligations in our lives. My husband's work performance suffered. I lost a lot of weight. 5'7" at 105 pounds is scary. Needless to say, keeping up with life's necessities seemed more than we could cope with. Many people in our neighborhood knew of our situation and were wonderful neighbors to check on us and show us kindness in many ways. One act of service stands out. Our little house was 30 years old, no garage or car port. It was a dreaded task each morning for my husband to fight the bitter cold and scrape the windshield before he drove to work at 6:00 am. One morning as he made his way outside to begin the ritual, probably thinking in his mind, "I wonder how I'm going to get through this day. I need to find a time to stop by the hospital. I can't wait to hear the latest on my girl," he stopped and found that someone had scraped his windshield and shoveled our driveway. He was overcome with gratitude. He immediately felt that his burdens were a bit lighter because someone had thought of him. He went to work that day with a little more energy, a little lighter step, and a little boost of much-needed hope that everything would be okay. We never found out who scraped our windshield.

Another time, during that same winter and same situation, a man in our church congregation slipped my husband a $20 bill and told him to take his wife (me) out on a date, and try to forget about life's troubles for a couple hours. It was wonderful. That $20 was just what we needed. Not that we couldn't afford to spend our own money on a date, but it was as if that man gave us an assignment to take care of each other, and it was his money, so we darn well better honor his wishes. It gave us the motivation to go somewhere besides the hospital and connect with each other. It reminded us how much we needed our marriage to be strong so we could get through our ordeal.

I am a living witness that the gut-wrenching hardships we sometimes face are more bearable when living angels step in. Much of the service I try to give to others stems from remembering the things that others have done for me, and how much they lifted me at the time.

The Faith and Love of Corrie ten Boom

I read The Hiding Place for the first time as a teenager. I have never forgotten it. What left an impression on me, more than the atrocities of WWII which I largely discovered for the first time in reading this book, was the goodness and compassion of Corrie ten Boom and her family. There are so many examples of reaching out to others in this story, which offered many people hope in a time of extreme trial. The ten Boom family kept their home open to anyone seeking refuge, mostly Jews but also others resisting the Nazis. They were steadfast Christians who believed the Jews to be the covenant people of God, and they thought it an honor to open their home to them. They harbored no superiority, stereotypes, or racism toward anyone. Religious differences didn't matter. When one of the first Jewish women came to the door asking for refuge, Corrie's father Casper responded, "In this household, God's people are always welcome." Corrie discovered the beginning of what she was willing to do when she went to her minister for food rationing cards, intending only to ask for as many as were needed for her own family. She surprised herself by asking for 100.

The faith of the ten Boom family ran deep. They ten Booms were eventually arrested. Her father and others died shortly after. Corrie and her sister Betsie were sent from one concentration camp to another, arriving finally at Ravensbruck. Before her sister Betsie died there, she said to Corrie, "There is no pit so deep that God's love is not deeper still."

Corrie had love not only for the Jews who were the target of hatred and suffering, but also for perpetrators of the war's horrific atrocities, specifically for someone who had hurt her personally. A while after Corrie was released, a social gathering brought her in the presence of one of the guards who had been especially cruel to her. He did not recognize her, but she recognized him. She immediately felt anger swell up inside her. She said a prayer to herself, in so many words, "God, I cannot shake this man's hand. I cannot forgive him. Please give me your forgiveness." She reached out to shake his hand, and as she made physical contact with him, she felt the love of God flow through her arm and into his. She was able to forgive him at that moment because of the love God allowed her to feel for him.

I love the story of the ten Boom family because it sheds light on how much capacity we have to reach out to others, and to use our energy to do good. The things we tend to fret over every day lose their importance in the face of extreme trials like the Holocaust. Weren't we all more aware of each other after 9/11? Didn't we redefine what was important after that tragic day? When I think of Corrie ten Boom, I think, "How many ration cards would I have asked for?" I think sometimes we don't know how good we are or what we are made of exactly until we're brought to the moment. Then when that moment comes, it is truly a defining moment as we realize just how much we care about the people around us, even complete strangers, and that love moves us to do great things we didn't know we could do.