Today's dinner guests were not a well-planned bunch, but included some friends I adore and one that my daughter did. This was supposed to be a day off for me since my son was going to be with his dad. The weight of the warld was off my shoulders as I have shed my anger and grief, and this was the first holiday that I wasn't completely dreading. So I was going to do my nails, hike, and take a long hot bath. But my daughter invited a dinner guest from school. This girl, she said, had no family. Okay... What the heck. So I invited some friends as well. Prime rib, sweet potatoes, and an assortment of desserts. Gripe as I may, I love doing it.
The woman, Ursula, didn't seem to be too much of anything. She was plain and unassuming, but the more that she spoke the more I realized how bright she was. Kate had told me that she was one of San Diego's homeless and that she lived in shelters and had nothing. She talked about how Ursula dragged a duffel bag to and from school each day, filled with all of her possessions. Before today was over Ursula was the proud owner of a new rolling duffel bag, a laptop computer, shampoo, a backpack and some designer duds.
When she first walked through the door she stared at the beautiful mountains just beyond the expansive sliding doors, the Christmas trees so sweetly decorated, the pretty furniture and the beautifully set table. There was nothing in her gaze other than pure gratitude for what she was to be a part of . She loved the food, but ate modestly in spite of the bounty. She engaged in the conversations with a child-like inquisitiveness when something was not already in her realm. She could not stop the thank yous from falling from her lips as my daughter showered her with gifts she never imagined she'd be getting. Jen and I sat across the great room listening to Kate's laughter and joy in this giving extravaganza.
As we stood in the living room saying our goodbyes she thanked me first for all of the gifts. She made mention of my beautiful daughter and how blessed we are. She was right. For all of the things that I have always wished for my children, to be humble, gracious and giving have always been my favorites. Then she thanked me for helping her to feel like a child again. She explained, in no uncertain terms, that she had felt that life and God had given up on her. Our simple acts validated for her that she mattered as a person.
The final part of her oratory was what moved me the most. She was worried that our beautiful gifts would be stolen by the other "residents" of the shelters. Then she told us how she has learned to be grateful for what she does have, even when it's taken from her because these are just things and with a lot of practice and faith she has learned to forgive and understand those who do the taking. Her main focus has been and continues to be, moving forward. She confessed that she had forgotten this, but was glad to realize it again.
Her beaming smile was the greatest gift that I never thought to ask for. For all of the hundred or so thank yous that spilled from her lips throughout the night, the one from which I couldn't shield my tears, was the final one where she thanked us for our love, in a shaking, crackling voice. I almost didn't want her to leave, but hey- I was tired and life owed me a long, hot bath.
Early in the day today Kate picked my mutant lemon off the tree because it had ripened. It was the sweetest smelling lemon I've ever inhaled. You never really know how anything is going to turn out. Sometimes things just seem so dark. And sometimes, there is nothing but light. Can't have one without the other.
Merry Christmas, indeed.
No comments:
Post a Comment