Dear Hearts,
We have received reprieve from the cold, but only days ago it was dangerous. The weather was literally deadly and even if you were swaddled in layers, the wind was face breaking. At 6 degrees I set out to the gym with a stop at the ATM. This is a little satellite of the bank about the size of a bathroom, mostly glass enclosed, at the edge of an asphalt parking lot.
As I pulled near, I noticed a group inside, three standing and one on the ground. I surmised them to
be homeless, people ravaged by hardship, by opiates and poor choices. They had broken the lock
on the door. This was their refuge against biting weather. Nonetheless, I knocked to gain entrance.
One of the men looked at me, if you could call it looking. He had the kind of eyes that point outward in different directions. His forehead seemed to have been flattened.
We won’t hurt you. You can come in.
I’d like to have my privacy at the ATM. Will you please step out? I will only be a moment.
Reluctantly they obliged.
The place smelled of ripe bodies and stale smoke. Half clipped butts littered the floor. Someone had made a pillow out of old papers. On my left a woman sat cross-legged on the cement. She gazed at me and rose, shivering, blowing on her unprotected hands, then thrust them in her hoodie pocket and shuffled out. The sweatshirt was bleak defense against the bitter day. She rattled with chills.
Hurriedly I made a deposit and returned to my car. But I could not leave. I was incapable of moving on. The men were better prepared for the winter storm, with boots and hats and bulky jackets, but that young woman was vulnerable, her garments flimsy. Her pain striking.
I thought about her dying there, in the stench of the shelter and decided to search my vehicle for a blanket. I always keep a spare, but damn! It was not there. What could I do?
The idea crossed my mind like a net falling around a fish.
Why not give her your coat?
What? Really? But I only have on my spandex and Tee. And I like this coat.
Your car will be warm in a few moments.
It was such a strong compulsion, the net pulled me in with little wiggling.
I emptied my pockets and peeled off the jacket, knocking on the glass, handing it through the door.
Her eyes opened wide with surprise. The men in a huddle to the right gaped and guffawed, jaws dropping. The one with the wild eyes cried out,
You’re giving her your own coat!!! I’ll be damned. You must be an angel.
I ran, then, back to the car, turning it over, turning the heat up, thinking about what had happened.
I wondered about leaving her. Perhaps I had not done enough. A coat was no sacrifice. My giving was minimal.
Jesus once said, who would lose his life for my sake, shall find life. I think he was inviting us to let go of what we believe is ours, with its powers and perceptions, possessions and ego purposes. So doing we find Love. Love is our true Identity and real Life.
Writing this now, I hope you understand I am not wanting a pat on the back, or tooting my own horn.
I was compelled. My thoughts were ordered, my actions orchestrated from something deeper
inside. It was not charity. It was as if my life had become an instrument for an act that had little to do with me. It was not personal.
God works like that, asking you to return something you’ve been given, reminding you that all things
here are loans. Only love belongs to you. Only love can be shared. The rest is swaddling. Maybe that is why I felt warm giving a cold woman my coat.
2 Corinthians, 9:7 says,
God loves a cheerful giver.
This cheer is of the heart. It is not gaiety, but a deeper happiness, the warmth of extension. We are not really giving a coat or bread or money. We invest our Self. We are
giving what He has given me, because what He has given me is all I want. ACIM WB p1 117.
We invest our hearts. We give our Self and somehow find treasure within. We find God.
God being Love is also (our) happiness. WB P 1 103
This evening, my heart is with Jeshua, who is all in, all the time, Who gives everything to become our sufficiency. I find him to be a steady inner fire, warm no matter how the winter rages. I like it when He
asks for something. He uses what I give in surprising ways. A boat on the Galilee is never just a boat. It is an altar for preaching. He asked Peter for that. A coat is never just a coat. It is an instrument for teaching. He asked MaryBeth for that.
We meet at my home Thursday night, tonight, Feb 7th at 7:30. 161 Sassamon Ave. Milton 02187.
Come on in, take off your shoes, find a comfy chair and let Love warm your heart.
all love,
marybeth