Somewhere along the way of life

It was 1961. We'd been in Los Angeles for two weeks, with my brother and his sweet family. On our way back home to Birmingham. But Dad and Mom loved to travel, and there was time, and they wanted me to see as much of our Country as possible. And so we went north from L.A. to Yosemite. Spent a day driving through, but then on our way using the little traveled eastward route through Nevada. I thought it was wild there were no speed limits on the highway, but Dad found it less than great that there were so few service stations. And Mom found it abominable that we couldn't find a place to stay overnight and had to resort to sleeping in the car. Finally into Arizona and onto Route 66, headed for the Grand Canyon. Drove north from Flagstaff. The Canyon was amazing! I got dizzy from looking at how far down the river was from Bright Angel Point. Leaving there, headed east, Dad wanted to see the way the Canyon looked at its beginning and so followed a little dirt road that headed the right direction but proved a bit difficult to navigate. Suddenly, out of nowhere, two tiny Native American children jumped from beneath a tree and stood in the path of our vehicle. Holding a hand lettered sign that said "Take our picture for $1." Dad stopped to let them approach, handed them $5, and asked if they needed a drink of water. They just smiled and without a word ran off down a dirt trail and disappeared out of sight. Dad commented he hoped maybe he'd given them enough money that they could afford to stay home and out of the heat for the rest of the day.

It was 1999. Jim had suffered an allergy episode and we were at a Wilmington pharmacy at midnight. I went in to get his prescription, and was approached by a youngish gentleman who asked in a very quiet voice if I could spare $2. Seemed his child was sick, he needed to buy Nyquil, but he was short the price. I handed him two ones. He went to the register and paid and was on his way. When I stepped to the register, the clerk said to me, "I guess you know you just got suckered, he wanted his high for the night, no kids at his house, just him and his habit." I looked at the clerk and said, "Oh, well, it's only $2." The clerk shook his head in disgust at my naivete and rang up my purchase.

It was 2016. I was in a grocery store in Red Oak. The lady in front of me stood in contemplation, holding a birthday cake in one hand, and a quart of milk in the other. She said to the cashier, "I guess I need to put the cake back. It's my daughter's birthday but I can't afford both milk and cake, and milk is more important." I spoke up, how much do you need? The clerk looked at me and said, she's $5 short. I handed her $5. And the lady in front of me burst into tears. Thanks, and more thanks, and God bless yous from her and she was out the door with both cake and milk. The cashier commented what a nice thing I'd done. I just nodded, because I knew I'd done it for me and not the lady with the cake.

If you've never been in need this post probably has no meaning for you. But if you've ever laid awake at night and wondered how you were going to stretch the next paycheck to afford gas and rent and groceries, then perhaps you know why I never hesitate to share what I have. It may not be more than once a year, but when the need arises, I pray I notice and act.  It's the way I was raised. And the way I think it should be. But then, I'm selfish, and what I do isn't necessarily for someone else, it's for me. And the way I feel afterward. For a long time. Pressed down, shaken together, overflowing.