A Lesson in Giving
When I arrived home from church on Sunday, exhausted from the 3-hour service, I quickly changed into some baggy sweats and a T-shirt and began looking for something suitable for lunch. The fridge was a disappointment. Some ketchup, softening carrots and a bottle of soy sauce didn't give me any good ideas.
A knock at the door of my apartment brought a reminder that today was "Easter for the dead" on the Orthodox calendar, a day when people give alms to the poor on behalf of their deceased loved ones.
"Do have any food miss?"
Outside my door, a ten-year-old looking boy smiled up at me, one shoulder tilted down to rest his heavy, bulging plastic bag on the hallway floor.
I studied him carefully, smiling. It's not unusual for Roma (gypsy) children to go door-to-door begging. And on this particular Sunday, my little friend had almost collected more than he could carry.
"I'm sorry. You know, I really don't have anything suitable to give you right now."
"Hey, well, do you have any toys? Last time I came here the lady who lived here let me come inside and I played with two little boys and their toys."
"Well, those little boys don't live here anymore. But I might just be able to find a toy. You wait here…"
"But can I come in?" he interjected. "The last family who lived here let me come in!"
"No, you just wait there, I'll be right back."
I closed the door to his frowning face, half afraid that he might come in of his own accord while I was in the back bedroom searching for the toy box, but too compassionate to lock the door in his face blatantly communicating my distrust.
I located the box, way up on top of the wardrobe, climbed up on a chair and shouldered it to the floor with difficulty. Books? No, they're all in English. Ah yes, a robot will do.
I returned to the front door and handed him a red and blue painted block robot with wooden arms, head and legs attached with elastic, allowing him to change his position from sitting to standing with his arms up or out.
The boy studied the robot, satisfied.
"My name is Cristi."
"Oh nice to meet you. My name is Rahela."
"So do you have any food?"
I smiled again and patiently explained that I was really all out of food and needed to go to the store to get something for lunch.
"Oh no," I thought out loud. "It's Sunday and the stores close at 1PM." I began to get impatient for my new friend to take his leave, but his feet were fixed to the spot. My thoughts were interrupted as he set down his loot and began pulling everything out of his yellow plastic bag. Bananas, loaves of bread shaped like 8's, cheeses, and various other neatly packaged unidentifiable foods began to litter the hallway floor around him.
"Here, take a loaf of bread. Do you want some eggs? Here, take these."
He carefully held out a loaf of bread and a dozen eggs in a clear plastic bag.
"But you don't need them? You're family doesn't need these eggs?" I asked.
"Well, sure we do, but you need them too."
I reached out to receive the gift just as my room-mate came to the door to see who I was talking to.
"My name is Cristi." He held out his hand and exchanged introductions with Ana. She gave me a quizzical look glancing at the food in my arms.
"Here, you take a loaf of bread too," he addressed Ana this time. She smiled and agreed, charmed by our new friend's generosity.
We watched in slightly embarrassed silence as Cristi reloaded his bag, lifted his burden, leaning to one side to balance himself.
"Thanks for the food," I blurted out as he turned to walk down the stairs. He gave us a wave and continued on his way.
This incident left me deeply impressed by the generosity of one young boy, and the irony of receiving food from the very one who came to ask for it. There has got to be something to learn here, something deeply important as I relate to the materially poor but very rich in spirit.
I consider myself blessed to be able to receive from such a one as Cristi. His selfless gesture of kindness left me speechless. Even though I am here to serve others, I find that many times I am the one being served.
Thanks for sticking with me through these past six years. I am equally blessed by the generosity of my non-poor friends who make it possible for me to live here in Romania. I hear that gas prices are rising and the market is flat. Yet many of you continue to give month after month. Thank you.
Please contact me personally anytime concerning getting on or off my mailing list. I also send this letter by email if that's a better option for you.
Peace,
Rachel
P.S. Thanks to the generosity of some friends at Byfield Parish Church, I've been in my new apartment since January and am loving the space, the quiet and the freedom of having my own kitchen…and don't worry about the empty fridge. It's not usually quite as bare as it was that one Sunday. 🙂
rachel.simons@wordmadeflesh.com
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