by Alfred Lam on December 15, 2008 · 1 comment
Last Saturday I went to a Christian organization to speak. It was the first time in more than a year that I have spoken in a “Christian” context. I really didn’t give it much thought when I accepted the invitation. A friend of mine works for the organization and they needed a speaker, so I just said yes, mostly thinking of helping out a friend.
It wasn’t till I was driving to the engagement that it hit me. I was surprised how “nervous” I felt on the way. It wasn’t the speaking that made me nervous. It was more a sense of uncertainty of whether I still “belong” in that “world”. Even as I pulled into the parking lot, in the back of my mind I was still looking for excuses to back out of the engagement (“hm…is that a headache that I feel coming on? May be I should cancel and not spread it to others…”)
The workshop itself was okay. The staff went out of their way to make me feel welcomed and at home. When I asked the audience a question and there was silence, the staff took it upon themselves to respond to help me not feel awkward. A year ago I wouldn’t have thought about any of this. But today, I have learned to recognize and appreciate acts of kindness, no matter how small.
3 hours later, the workshop was finished. I was exhausted; more emotionally than physically. As I made a quick exit and drove away, I learned a couple of things: First, I realized that my wounds from the betrayal and trampling I received from those whom I thought were my Christian community are still very open and fresh, and I still need to deal with it and seek healing. Second, I learned how every act of kindness makes a difference, and I need to be thankful for them. I am thankful for the staff of the organization. For every smile, every handshake, every pat on the shoulder. I am thankful for the people who left messages on my facebook to encourage me. The fact that they realized this is a ‘big deal’ for me and took time to leave me notes tells me that they are thinking of me. I am thankful to Anna who looked after Taylor in a mall for 3 hours while I spoke. As I said, a year ago, I would have taken everything for granted. Now, I have learned to treasure kindness.
When I got home I opened the thank you card they gave me. The old me wouldn’t even bother reading them after speaking engagements. But this time it was different. I looked at the card, read every word, and instead of it going into my recycle bin, it now stands on my desk at home.
Call it a “milestone” on a long journey.
Tim, Joseph, Alex, Teresa, Nicole, Addie, Ceci, Harry, Anna…Thank you
“…But a poor widow came and put in two very small copper coins, worth only a fraction of a penny” –Mark 12:42
A couple of days ago I volunteered at a Salvation Army Kettle – the kind you see at shopping malls and other public places at this time of year. Basically the Salvation Army puts out these kettles for people to put in donations to support their work. Because our agency agreed to help out, I was glad to sign up for a shift.
The work was simply enough. I simply had to go to the mall, stand beside the kettle for 90 minutes, and thank people for their donations. While a few people actually stopped by, for the most part I was simply standing there.
As I stood there watching the people walking right by me, busy with their Christmas shopping, a mild feeling of loneliness came over me. It was not so much me feeling lonely for myself, but I was getting a taste of how the busy, “happy” holiday seasons can be a lonely experience for many people. Christmas is billed as a season of peace, of joy, of family and friends. There are many who don’t have a whole lot of any of those things in their lives. As I stood there in the mall, I quietly wondered whether Christmas feels like this for them: being alone while surrounded by people busy celebrating.
I was watching this one family carrying…no, hauling a huge load of Christmas gifts when I was startled by a voice behind me.
“Hi!”
“Hello!”
I turned around to see an elderly gentleman. We chatted for a bit. From our conversation, it was apparent that he struggles with some mental disability, and from the way he dressed, I guessed that financially he wasn’t exactly well off. He told me that every year he makes it a point to look for the Salvation Army kettle to make a donation, because in the past he had benefited from Salvation army’s services to the needy.
Then he pulled out a handful of loose change from his pocket and dropped them into the kettle. He did so slowly, one coin at a time, like it was the most important thing he had to do that day. After he was done, I thanked him, he said good-bye and started to walk away. After taking a few steps, he stopped, turned and said to me, “You take care of yourself.”
I didn’t get a chance to tell him, but in many ways, he gave more that day than he could ever know.