Holiday Guilt

It's beginning, as it does every year about this time. I can feel a building anxiety brought on by the annual holiday season and all it entails. Each year I vow to do things differently. What does my family need, really? We are broken, we are flawed, we are simple, not terrible things to be if one desires to reach out to those who are poor in spirit. Who knows what use can be made from the likes of us? None of us are homeless or hungry or desperate beyond measure. I long to rouse myself into some form of useful community service, such as making huge pots of soup to feed the hungry.

Whatever you've done to the least of these, you've done to me.

Ah, who said that? I know who said that. I know what he meant. The truth is, my kids and grandkids aren't exactly "the least of these." They go to bed with full tummies and with sturdy roofs to protect them from the elements. Should I begrudge them the expression of my affection in the form of gifts? No, I don't think that's exactly the point. But still my heart burns within for something more, something beyond this small circle of influence.

Growing up as a member of the Seventh-day Adventist church, I participated in handing out baskets of food during the Thanksgiving and Christmas season. I can honestly say that the look of stunned appreciation on the faces of the poor pleased me more than the shiny new radios or record players awaiting me under our beautifully lighted tree. It's not that I didn't appreciate my gifts, it's more that their newness soon wore off as they became mere possessions for which I was responsible. The thrill wore off because I knew there would always be more where those came from. I would never be lacking in such things, and so I couldn't rightly value them. By contrast, the touching scenes I witnessed in the humble homes of those who had nothing beyond the bare necessities of life gave me a gift which was slow to fade: the wonderful memory of having played a small part in alleviating human suffering.

I'm no angel of mercy, no Mother Theresa. Just a tired nana who feels plenty of guilt this time of year as, without intending to, I again take that stroll down memory lane to a time when I knew there was something sacred about feeding the poor, and something profane about enjoying my own wealth without rousing myself enough to do something about the needs of others.

Comments

[Ivory]

I can see that you have a kind and gentle heart. I hope you give in to the need to help work with the poor, as you said, it is rewarding, and very helpful to others. Blessed journey.