My little ones and I made a weekday odyssey into downtown Washington, D.C. today.  Highlights included my three-year-old crowing “ALL ABOARD!” in the mostly-quiet commuter train, my one-year-old nearly crawling into an indoor fountain in the art museum, and a perfect-for-little-boys exhibit featuring lots of armor and swords. The day also gave us all an unplanned lesson in sacrificial giving.

Just before entering the museum, I paused to rummage around for something in the bottom of the stroller.  While we were stopped, an older woman approached us.  She explained she was homeless, with four kids of her own, and asked if we had anything we could spare.  I quickly assessed the situation.  We were in a well-traveled area, and this woman seemed completely non-threatening.  Our safety was not at risk, so my mind moved quickly to the next issue–if we were to give her something, and what it might be?  I often have reservations about giving cash in such situations, for fear of the unhealthy habits it might support. But with small children looking on, who probably couldn’t understand that dimension, I decided this time we would give a bit of money to the woman.  I had plenty of cash on hand, so I gave her some.  Then, remembering a granola bar we had stuck in our lunch box, passed that on to her as well. At least that would make a healthy snack, I thought, and it seemed like a little bit more personal of a gesture than money alone.  She thanked us and headed on her way.

A few moments later I realized my three-year-old was tearing up.  “Do we have anything else special, Mommy?”  I didn’t understand what he was talking about, and then it dawned on me. Granola bars are rare treats in our household, usually reserved for excursions such as this one. Giving away our granola bar had not been a big deal to me.But to a little boy who had spied me stowing it away in the lunch box, and had been looking forward to eating it on our picnic in the city, its loss was painful.

I tried to explain–that the lady who had just been talking to us said she didn’t have a home, and probably didn’t have money to buy herself special treats.  Since we have a home and plenty of money to buy special treats like granola bars, we shared ours with her, even though it meant this time we wouldn’t have one for ourselves.  I could tell he was still sad, but he didn’t make as big of a fuss about it as he usually does about such things.  In fact, he let it go pretty quickly, which was rather uncharacteristic of him. Maybe on some level, he understood.

What has struck me in pondering Gabriel’s lesson is how rarely I myself practice giving sacrificially.  Yes, I spend practically the entire day as a mother giving of myself.  Yet in those moments when I am called on to really give to the point of sacrifice–that’s when I balk, get excessively impatient, or even angry.  I am unable, on my own resources, to get past my own carefully constructed wall of self-centeredness and self-protection.  Only by God’s grace am I able to recognize those moments when I need to plunge through that wall, and like Gabriel did on our trip to DC, learn to give up a little (or a big) something that I might like to have or enjoy for the sake of my children, my spouse, or my “neighbor” in general.

Carla Galdo is a wife, a mother of two boys, and a recent graduate of the M.T.S. program at the John Paul II Institute for Marriage and Family in Washington, D.C.. She blogs occasionally at amotherssmile.blogspot.com.

What a beautiful reflection! I love how you invite your readers to think about moments of "invitation" for charity and self-sacrifice. Especially ones that often go unnoticed!

Feel free to comment below:

Please be charitable in your comments

Leave your comment