Little things mean a lot...

The other day I was bringing my 86 year old mother back from her Dr's appointment when we decided to go for lunch. Along the was we passed through neighborhoods of her youth. “I cleaned house there every week, one family on the third floor, another on the second” I got a dime every time for the work I did. The stories went on and on, I cant count the times I have heard them. Her memories were almost real to me I heard them so many times.

Then she began to talk of two of Superiors old time Grocers, the Ansells' and Cohens'. “You know, they took good care of us. Mr Ansell would always have a bag of fruit, Oranges or Bananas for us. Henry Cohen would have Mother send one of us down to his store to pick up a bag of groceries. There would be meat in the bag. He was always so nice.”

There were I believe nine children on my mothers family, they grew up during the depression. Times were tough, there was little work and less money. My mothers family was like so many other families in town. Getting by but not knowing how.

I doubt that those two gentlemen ever remember sending groceries my Grand-parents way, it was a part of life for them. I had the good pleasure to know Henry Cohen as I was growing up, our families were competitors in the restaurant business. I can say he was the same gentleman in his later years as he was in his youth. I am also sure that both of these man gave to many religious and civic organizations through the years

The point however is that small gifts are fondly remembered seventy years later. I can't drive down Hammond Avenue without being reminded of them, even when I am alone in the car. These men are gone, their families have perhaps moved on. The only way I can say Thank You is to pass on what was given to my family. It isn't necessarily the size of the gift which makes a difference, but rather being sensitive to the need, and trying to make a difference in one persons life.

The Psalmist wrote ”I will give nothing that didn't cost me something”, my paraphrase. Bulging cans of food and stale bread don't honor anyone, least of all ourselves. Take a moment this week, try to listen with your heart. Hear what our Creator speaks to you, then follow through. Perhaps someone elses' grandson will speak of you in the next century, remembering your kindness this year.