Loving to the Point of Heartbreak

This time of year I find myself frantic even though I make a conscious effort to remain mindful of what the Christmas season is all about.  "And what is that?" you ask.

I'm inclined to say the season is about what is in our hearts.  Each one of us understands the meaning of Christmas, Hanukkah, Yule, in their own cultural way.  I am Christian, so I understand the season as remembering the birth of Jesus.  I also remember it is the season of solstice and the "coming of the Light."  So these two thoughts are with me, as well as the time of Hanukkah and the miracle of the eight nights of lamps burning.

It is during this season I am often subject to moments that stirs the heart.  Such is the one I had today.

I was returning from a trip to the grocery store to buy bread and butter for a Christmas lunch.  When I drove out of the parking lot on the corner was a small old man, scruffy beard, torn wool cap holding a piece of cardboard out at arm's length with the words, PLEASE I NEED SOME HELP.  

As I waited for the light to turn green, I felt him looking at me and I avoided his stare.  I didn't have change and I was in the far left lane.  So I drove around the corner and got a coffee and bagel because I didn't yet have breakfast.  When I came back out to the street he was still there, so I turned into the parking lot, rolled down the passenger window, and gave him one dollar.  He reached into the car to take it, and he said to me, "Thank you, dear.  Merry Christmas."  And in that moment, my heart began to break.  Here's why . . .

On the seat that he reached over was a bag with a toasted bagel and a cup of hot coffee.  In my pocket was the left over change and a $5 bill.  In my wallet was a $20 bill.  I gave him $1.  As I drove away I repeated to myself the words he spoke, and they caught hard in my chest. I could have easily given him so much more.  I didn't need the food.  I didn't need the $5 and probably would have not suffered much if I gave him the $20.

I have so much and he seemed to have so little and what I gave him was so little.  If my kinder self spoke to my stingy self, I might say, "Well… you took the time to give him something, even if it was just a little."  And I could think of many excuses as to why not to give money to those who might use it toward an addiction.  It's all about judgment.  Who has the right to have more than someone else on this planet?

The lessons we learn this time of year are not for those we give to, but for ourselves.  Perhaps it's not in the quantity of our gift but in the love that comes with the exchange.  And I found myself loving this man, even to the point of heartbreak.