“I need a little favor, shared my friend.” “Wondering if you can help?” By now OI have learned to ask questions before saying yes. You’ve probably found yourself in similar situations, regretting an impulsive nod. I volleyed, “What’s up?” “I want to give a gift in someone’s honor,” he continued, “Can you make that happen?” Make it happen? This is a no brainer. He writes a check; I issue a tax receipt. Happily, I could manage this inconvenience. “Somebody’s birthday?” I queried slightly curious. And then a heart wrenching story. A business colleague lost his daughter in a tragic car accident. Early thirties. Newly married. Her best years ahead. “Bruce,” he continued, “I just can’t think of anything worse for a parent. My words seem inadequate. Is there some project we can support to bring a little comfort to the family?
Receiving a call like this is sobering. A reality check. I glanced across my desk at the photo of my own three children and uttered a short prayer of gratitude for their safety, their health and their unfolding lives. And then I thought of my friend, compelled by compassion to do something kind, but struggling for an appropriate response. So, he sent a check, and I wrote the grieving family on his behalf—sharing how a gift given in their daughter’s honor would be used to help young girls in our ministry who had lost everything and needed social and academic support.
And then weeks of silence. No response. Wondering. Doubting. Had we done the right thing? Finally, my friend received a heartfelt note from the family and forwarded it to me. I’ve read it several times. “To know these girls are given an opportunity to flourish, be educated and become leaders,” penned the mother, “is something our daughter would have been proud to have given in her name, as we are.” She continued, “Grief, I’ve learned is really just love. It’s all the love you want to give but cannot. All the unspent t love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and the hollow of your chest. Grief is the price we pay for love.”
The writer George Saunders reflected, “What I regret most in my life are failures of kindness. Those moments when another human being was there, in front of me, suffering, and I responded…sensibly. Reservedly. Mildly.
I’m grateful for my friend who took a risk, deciding to “spend” some love and kindness on a hurting family. He could have acted sensibly, reservedly and mildly. But his act brough a little healing and hope into our world and created a moment for me to ponder more deeply this season. A reminder to spend love—unreservedly, unsensibly, unmildly—on my family, my friends and those who made need it most.
A wonderful Thanksgiving.
Bruce Main
President and Founder—Urban Promise International
PAUSE FOR REFLECTION AND PRAYER
This story from my friend, Bruce Main, captures the true meaning of the love that came down from Heaven during the Christmas Season and manifest itself on the Cross during Easter. Underserved and unreserved love that was poured out for us that we would be reconciled children of God. Why not boldly share this love with all who cross your path of life.
Dear Jesus, help me share your love with everyone as you did for me.