Those of us with finite resources, and that includes many of us, may easily and secretly find it hard to give of what we have. Mea culpa.
It is easy to give away our surpluses and extras — things we have no use for, things we have several of, things that we have outgrown, things whose absence we will not miss (like, how many fruitcakes can we consume in one month?).
Giving away those we have an excess of, though appreciated by the recipient, doesn’t exact much from us. It spares us from clutter and the curse of hoarding; it becomes part purging, part giving. Giving away what we don’t need doesn’t hurt.
But to give away that which we also need, that which we may also have need for in the future, that which will take a sacrifice to give a part of and to part with — and give to people who are not family (Charity begins at home but doesn’t end there) — that is genuine giving. That hurts.
But it is that kind of giving that has the highest ROI — not just in heaven, but also on earth, for the joy of having made someone smile while your pocket grimaces is priceless! I remember, when I was about four, my parents urged me to give up my pack of popcorn to a couple of street urchins. At that age, I felt I needed my popcorn, not just wanted it. Reluctantly, I gave the pack away and walked on. But I turned my back and saw the bigger street kid give her little sister the popcorn, piece by piece, and how the little one’s eyes lit up with every morsel. The older girl was giving up what I had just given up, for someone she felt needed it more. In my child’s heart I knew the angels were smiling at all of us.
During one Religion class in high school at the Assumption Convent, we reflected on the act of giving, and we all agreed that we, being so blessed, should give till “it hurts.”
Then one of my classmates raised her hand and shared: “There comes a point when giving ‘till it hurts’ actually becomes a joy and when you’ve reached that stage, giving hurts no more.” The joy of giving is the anesthetic that dulls the pain of parting with something of value. Money is of value. Ouch.
These thoughts swirl in my mind like a flashflood as I grieve for the victims of Sendong. Before I learned of the devastation, I felt I had given my share to the less fortunate, in the spirit of the season, till it hurt. I selfishly wished I hadn’t given away my quota (rather, what I believed was my quota) for charity, for here was Sendong, and its victims needed help desperately.
My resources are finite but God’s love is infinite. He gives us new wellsprings from which to draw blessings that we can share. He applies a balm on that spot that hurts and bleeds when we give away a part of ourselves. He makes giving a reward in itself because of the indescribable but undeniable “feel-good” sensation one gets after a genuine act of sharing.
He makes it possible to give till it hurts… and hurts no more.
‘It just rotates’
My mom Sonia Reyes Mayor recently hosted a bienvenida for one of her favorite first cousins, Araceli “Cely” Isler Villaluz and as usual, I took down mental notes of what was probably ordinary Sunday talk to her.
Auntie Cely said she and her husband Uncle Fil are in this season of their lives when they have more than they can ask for. Both sprightly octogenarians, they believe they will be passing on to their grandchildren a solid legacy.
She recalled their salad days, and then she looked at her cousins, my mom and my Auntie Lily Reyes Lubag, seated around the dining table. They are among the many descendants of Bongabon, Oriental Mindoro’s fabled Reyes brothers Cenon, Guillermo, Igmedio and Pedro and only sister Felisa. Each branch of the extended Reyes family has experienced its own vicissitudes. A family has experienced a murder, another, deaths due to cancer. “You know, each of our families here has had our ups and downs. A time of want, a time of plenty, joy and sadness. It just rotates,” Auntie Cely pointed out ever so wisely.
As former President Joseph Estrada once said, “Weather-weather lang.” As the book of Ecclesiates says, “To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven…”
Seasons pass, they rotate, almost in perfect cadence, year after year.
My Auntie Cely, as usual, is right.
For those of us who have been spared the wrath of Sendong, this is our season to live life to the fullest, knowing that a full life means leaving space in our hearts for those who have been dealt the blows of a cruel season.
Thank you Lord for sparing my Season, and for the blessings that enable me to comfort those in the winter of their lives.
Merry Christmas!
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(You may e-mail me at joanneraeramirez@yahoo.com.)