If you walked into my house right this minute, saw a coffee cup you liked, and asked me where I got it, I might send it home with you. I might do the same with a sweater, a plant, or a book on my shelf. I am the same way at school. If a student or colleague needs something — Motrin, a snack, a notebook, a pair of socks, lotion, or $5 — if I have it, I am likely to insist that they take it.
I wasn’t born this way. I learned this behavior from my mom.
She, of course, made sure that my siblings and I had everything we needed in our childhood — food (even if it was French toast for dinner), clothing (even if it was on clearance or we had to put it on layaway), a house to live in (even if it was an unglamorous two bedroom apartment that one summer), and medical attention (including all the pairs of glasses I abused while growing up). I don’t know how she did it, to be honest, not on her pay from working as a unit clerk at a small community hospital. She did have monthly child support checks from my dad, but those probably covered groceries — there were four of us!
Nevertheless, she was a master of giving — birthday gifts, Christmas presents, and virtually anything she had that she thought you might want or need.
My first memory of this was when I was 18 (although I am sure it wouldn’t take much effort to conjure up earlier examples). It was my high school graduation night and what with senior banquet and prom and such, I hadn’t planned anything to wear under my cap and gown. I didn’t find anything in my closet, so I moved on to my mom’s. This was not an obvious choice because my mom was barely 5’2″ and shall we say a little rounded at the edges. I was a 5’6″ teenager! But, I found a simple dress in her closet, tried it on, and — Bingo!
“Mom, can I wear this dress tonight?”
“Sure! You can just have it!”
She was never possessive of her things — she held them loosely, even when she didn’t have much. Whenever, as adults, we left her house, we took with us storage containers full of food in cloth totes. She was always finding us things that might be useful around our homes – cleaners, decor, tools, or foods we might like to try.
She sent us care packages of socks and candles and candy and gift cards. In fact, she coordinated her church’s initiative to send care packages to college students. Every Christmas she mixed, cut out, and hand decorated dozens of cookies so that everyone she loved could get their own supply. She never missed a birthday, anniversary, or any kind of holiday without at least sending a card. Actually, the night before she died, she signed a sympathy card for her neighbor whose sister had just died. Giving was her joy.
So, last week, as I worked through her house, it wasn’t difficult to imagine people having her things — a granddaughter having a ring, a daughter taking some cherished photos, and her son taking the wooden bench that sat inside the front door. This all seemed right.
One granddaughter agreed to take bedroom furniture that has been handed down now five generations. Another took the Fiestaware that mom had collected piece by piece over the years. One by one, folks spoke up and took knick knacks, dish ware, and other items that Mom had treasured over the years.
I posted some items for free or for a little cash on Facebook Marketplace. One gentleman came for TV trays and left with those plus a shower chair plus a few random tools from the garage.
One young woman passed me some cash for a television and its stand, and I helped her carry it out the door.
My favorite give would’ve delighted mom. A woman reached out on Facebook to claim two free chairs. She was moving in with a parent in the wake of the other parent’s passing and needed them for their new-ish kitchen. I asked if she needed anything else as she and her partner and their young daughter came into the house. We discovered that one of our twin beds would be great for the girl. My brother and I marched the family downstairs to take a look, and when we entered the completely purple room, the little girl gasped! “Purple! My favorite color! Could I have this blanket?”
My reflexive yes is what my mother would’ve said.
The girl’s mother timidly asked about the purple curtains, and I started taking them down.
“What about the sheets?”
We loaded her up, and the girl hugged her squishy new blanket all the way to their truck.
They were thrilled with their chairs, their bed, and all the purple things we could find, and we were thrilled to have them take it. That whole exchange would’ve made mom’s week.
That’s just how she was — our mom who worked her whole life for any hourly wage had no greater joy than giving it all away. How lucky am I that I’ve got the opportunity to carry on that tradition?
Sometimes (ok, often!) in this space, I ask you for things that my students or my colleagues might need — and every time I ask, you all come through. Maybe you, like my mom, hold onto your things loosely. How lucky am I to be the conduit of your generosity — the carrier of your gifts — the witness to so much joy!
…they shared everything they had… Acts 4:32
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