oh holy night

I am a pauper who lives as if there were ever 100 gold coins in the heart.

For Christmas dinner, there is no ham on the table to offer, neither bountiful bowl of mashed potatoes nor basket bursting with dinner rolls, no fine chocolates or gourmet coffee.

On my table you’ll find a plate of scrambled eggs with spinach, bowls of soup, slices of bread, butter and a bottle of red wine. I share what I have and it is made abundant with a giving heart.

Christmas is a season of miracles. Christmas does not recognize the face of poverty or wealth. Christmas recognizes the heart that is giving, generosity, kindness and caring. Christmas recognizes above all how the gift is given, the intention of the heart.

I’ve been witness to gifts given that have no meaning; the act of giving is void of energy, the gift of meaning. I’ve been witness to individuals gathered at a table laden with a feast that drops me to my knees in praises and draws from others not a whisper of song from the lips. I’ve been witness to waste, to presents given where there is no need and shallow or desperate gifting copouts. I’ve been witness to excesses that are abundant commercially and spiritually bankrupt.

Viewing my apartment, one would never know that yesterday was Christmas. There are no presents strewn about, no balls of wrapping paper and ribbon. There is no tree bedecked with twinkling lights, no fragrance of pine and no leftovers in the refrigerator.

The signs of Christmas are in here (hand over heart) and on the pages of my journal. Save for two, each gift that I received arrived not in a box but as an action of kindness and thoughtfulness.

“Every moment of Christmas Eve and Christmas is genuine and authentic, revealing of the mystery and the Light,” I penned on my pages in the closing hours of Christmas night. “I feel the presence of others and strange though it may sound my presence in their lives or thoughts. I feel others reaching out to help me in a time of struggle and hardship as I have extended myself to help others.”

If it’s an abundance of food and presents around the tree that is desired, I would kindly invite you to visit a neighbor. If you can accept the simple and the humble and the genuine come in please. Draw forth a chair from the three, break bread and share soup and wine. It is Christmas. There are ever 100 gold coins in my heart and the holy conjunction of Jupiter and Venus in the sky.

a miracle at the market

It is the season of miracles it is said.

Is there truth in it? I’m coming to believe that there is.

A small miracle took place yesterday in the pet food aisle at Fred Meyer’s market.

In the past three seasons of joblessness, hardship and subsisting below the poverty line, each Christmas I’ve made sure that those more impoverished and in need than I receive something under the tree.

Last year I had 20 dollars to help the needy. I went to the Salvation Army’s Giving Tree at the mall. My heart was broken by the tablecloth of tags for items desired or needed from babies to seniors in the homes.

Last year I focused on the elderly. I noticed how many of them requested a sweater.

Instead of helping just one with $20, I wanted to help as many as I could. So I went to the Goodwill, where clothing items can be had for 99 cents on color tag days.

For about two hours, I joyfully and tirelessly picked through the racks, sweater by sweater, going over each with a fine-tooth comb for the slightest sign of wear, paying close attention to the cuffs and necks and collars, stains, loose threads or funky smells. I found one sweater that still had its original tags — $35 retail! And I paid $1! Only the sweaters in pristine condition made the cut.

I left with approximately 17 sweaters, including two large ones for men, on $20. At home, I ironed and folded each very nicely, carefully bagged them and delivered them to the Giving Tree.

This year is about the children.

And as ever the animals.

At the Goodwill, the bins overflow with stuffed animals. Any toy regardless of size and unless otherwise marked is $1.29. Again, I sifted with great loving care to select the toys that were brand-new or so pristine as to be so. The amount I can afford again is $20.

For around 7 dollars, I was able to provide six children with a toy from Santa.

These endeavors are of such heavenly joy, rich with spiritual fulfillment meaning; sometimes too they’re wrenching of the heart for I can do so little in the sea of need.

The animals are never forgotten.

After the toys and $9 for a 20-pound bag of catfood from Costco, I had approximately $4 left for a gift for the dogs.

I don’t want to give them cheap crap. Every dollar, no, dime is spent only after close examination of an item and contemplation of its true value.

Enter the woman in the market aisle.

After 20 minutes surveying the dog foods, I asked her who appeared, a woman petite and thin, about the products. We got to talking. Instantly I recognized a kindred spirit, a woman of kindness with a good heart and giving spirit.

I told her the Christmas story about the sweaters last year and the toys for the tots this year and that I’ve been without a job for more than two years and that I have $20 to help the needy and my striving to help as many humans and animals as I can.

An outsider might’ve seen sparks flying for we were like sisters crossing paths! We talked and talked. After agreeing that Safeway’s pet food prices are cheaper than Fred Meyer’s, we each decided to take our dollars there.

We parted with fervent wishes for a Merry Christmas.

Soon after we crossed paths again over by the bulk nuts. She approached me with face glowing.

“You so inspired me,” she said. “Here, go get yourself something.” In her hand she extended to me a $20 bill.

“I can’t,” I said, refusing her offer, meaning I can’t get something for myself.

“Then,” she insisted, “use it to do what you do.” Meaning to help the animals, the children, others.

“That,” I said,“I can do.”

She was paying it forward, she said.

That I can do too, I assured her.

My heart swelled with gratitude for her gift and the light in her face that bespoke her inspiration from my own story of poverty and generosity.

I thanked her and we parted again.

There are personal teachings and a parable for me that are not for exposure on a blog.

The story, however, the heart of the story is for all.

Miracles do happen, I’m coming to believe. They occur when goodness collides with goodness. And they can happen anywhere and at any time, including at the pet food aisle at the market.