My friend Toby is a singer of extraordinary range and volume. What he lacks in finesse, he makes up for in enthusiastic participation. He only sings by himself, though, with bells as accompaniment. Or maybe it’s the other way around. You’ll find him parked outside the Convent front door each Sunday morning, a large – very large – golden retriever yowling his heart out. I mention this because Toby is a giver, demonstrated by his dedication to the bells and his soloistic adventures.
I recently celebrated a birthday and was determined to avoid self-centeredness. At breakfast, Toby strolled over to my table and presented me with a gift: a slobbered on toy duck, which he had skillfully deprived of its stuffing. I thanked him for his thoughtfulness, sincerely hoping a dilapidated mallard wasn’t my omen for the day. But Toby wanted me to have that duck, his favorite toy and continued to approach the table. I gave him adequate attention; however, there’s only so much one can say in response to a golden retriever. He finally gave up, or so I thought. At the end of breakfast, I looked down, and there at my feet was the well-chewed mallard. Toby had given me his best, his favorite, his one true love. It was mine for the day, apparently.
The scripture for the day mentioned the widow’s mite, that tiny piece of heart more significant than all the gold of Ophir. I believe we have unlimited opportunities to give (or to withhold.) Here are some that occur to me: a prayer, a smile, a kind word, the truth, our time, our resources, half a cookie, moral support, a conversation, a visit, attentive listening, and sometimes a good idea. Or in Toby’s case, the trusting sacrifice of a beloved toy. (I returned it to him, eventually, along with a handful of his favorite kibbles!) When our gifts come from a place of love and sacrifice, without strings or expectations, they spread joy and transform an ordinary day into a memorable one.