Jason's Gift
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Many years ago, during one of my darkest days; a magical thing happened. Someone cared right when I needed it.

I believe I've told at least part of this story before; but I skipped the last part because it was hanging over my soul and I just didn't want to recall it.

We were living in a small college town, in winter, in a trailer with a big hole under the bathtub. We showered at a friend's house. And we were perpetually short on food.
Earlier that month, I had taken my son to work with me and begged a meal from my boss because my son was hungry and we had no food. I don't mean there was nothing tasty to eat. I mean the cupboards were bare. There was no food. (My boss gave him a giant 5 egg omelette stuffed with ham and veggies and cheese. My friends knew I was worried about paying for it, so they passed the hat for me. When they gave my boss their pile of change, he presented me with a giant cheeseburger smothered in grilled mushrooms too. I ate the whole thing, and never told my husband about that guilty cheeseburger - But I did bring him the rest of the omelette)


The next time I had a day off, I was mentally making a list of what I could pack in a friend's car. I hadn't quite made up my mind to leave, but I knew I had to in order for my son and the baby I was carrying in my womb to survive. I had already visited every charity in town and discovered that if I left my husband, I could get all kinds of assistance. But as long as I stayed with him, they couldn't help me. I still find that outrageous and offensive.

Anyway, there I was, mentally planning my escape; torn apart inside; when there was a knock at the door.

It was our friend Jason. He had 3 bags of groceries for us. He had been living in a homeless shelter for the past 18 months, and he'd finally gotten a real job. He cashed his first paycheck and bought food. For my family.

That's usually where the story ends, because by now I'm crying into my keyboard. But there's more.

Jason didn't know why he had to shop for us, he just knew that it was imperative. He unloaded can after can of veggies and chili and stew while we stood there speechless.
Then he hugged me, and he wouldn't let me go until he felt that I'd accepted his gift. THEN he made me look in his eyes while he said, "I have been where you are. You can see the light at the end of the tunnel. That last bit of getting there is the worst."
And he was right. Winter was nearly over. My hubby might, just maybe, have a job offer in St. Louis. And I couldn't see a way to survive those last few weeks.

He told me that someday, I would be seeing the light at the end of the tunnel; and someone would need me. And I would be there.

He was right again. Every good deed I've done, I've measured against Jason's gift. And every one has fallen short. Until two days ago; when red flags went off in my head, and I needed to act. Someone needed food and candles and a neat wicker basket... And most importantly, a knock at their door.

I didn't consider my bank balance. I didn't think, "What can we spare?" I just did it. My hubby came home to a half-packed basket, and started adding things to it. I didn't need to tell him a dramatic story. I just said "X needs us." And he began adding to the basket. My next door neighbor saw me carrying the basket to the truck, and picked a bunch of vegetables from his garden. He didn't know who it was going to. He didn't care. He just saw a basket that could use some peppers, lettuce, cucumbers and jalapenos. He hoped my friend was "better soon".

There are people who touch you. Not with their sob stories, or their sad lives, but because of who they are deep down. It is not the hardness of their path nor their mighty perseverance, nor even their willingness to help when they are down themselves. It is something beyond mere actions through life. I am blessed to know so many of those people. X is one of them. Jason's gift has come full circle. I understand his gift. Jason knocked on my door because my family touched him.

It's startling. It's a thing of wonder, like looking at a sunset or a butterfly, or the stars. You can't keep it, you can only let it be what it is. It's not about karma or looking good, it's about doing. Just doing. No congratulatory back-patting, no compliments. (although I got both, along with a lot of thank-you's) It's not even about telling the story. You just do it because it's perfect. And like everything perfect, it's here and gone. Holding onto it mars the perfection.

Jason touched me. I will never forget him. Even without his timely gift of love, I would have remembered him. He did things with chain mail that you would not believe.