I Was Hungry

" Jesus said to His disciples. 'Amen, I say to you, whatever you did for the least brothers of mine, you did for me. . . For I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me no drink, a stranger and you gave me no welcome, naked and you gave me no clothing, ill and in prison and you did not care for me. Amen, I say to you, what you did not do for these least ones, you did not do for me.'  " -- [Matthew 25: 31-46].

I grew up in a house where we had plenty of food but where, if I could not choke down the stale food I was fed, my father would instruct my mother, "Do NOT feed her." Not even a bowl of cold cereal or a scrap of toast.

I grew up in a house where, if I told my parents that I was cold, they would not allow me to fetch a sweater. I was told, "It is not cold."

I grew up in a house where, when I was five, I would tell my mother that I was tired and that I needed a nap; but, I was told, "You are five.  . . too old for naps. You are not tired."

At five, I found myself looking for food, putting myself down for naps, and sitting on the radiator to keep warm.

Why, then, was I so shocked, when I went to university over a thousand miles from home, and I was the victim of a violent crime, so violent that I nearly died-- that my mother told me I would be "a failure" if I came home for physical and emotional recovery?

I was left so injured that it was hard to get out of bed. I could not cook meals for myself. I was sleeping very little in the aftermath. I stayed home from classes for two weeks and got very behind in my school work.

Why was I so shocked that I was left alone and injured, with no family to care for my very real needs? This situation I was in was merely the end stage of the abuse and neglect I had suffered my entire life.

I remember at times looking out my apartment window, wondering if there was anyone out there who could possibly care about me? It just so happened that I lived right next door to a convent. On Sunday afternoons, I would see the nuns in the convent garden, in their black habits, walking arm in arm on a sunny day. I thought, if I became desperate, would I knock on their gate and ask for help?

But I didn't have to! You see, a miracle happened. I was in my first year of classes and barely knew my classmates, but word got around and I received so much help -- meals, offers to stay over with classmates until sleep returned at night, classmates who took notes in class for me, rides to appointments.

Years later, I can still look back and say that the simplest gestures meant the difference for me between life-robbing despair and a new hope for the future. These smallest acts in fact ensured my survival.

There is a cliche today about "Paying it Forward". But, this notion of loving others because of how you have been loved, is actually Biblical.

I feel nothing but deep sadness at the thought that, when my family treated me that way, they were doing these things TO Jesus Himself.

But I cannot dwell on that.

Today, even on days when I probably am the one needing help myself, I try to help others. I give encouragement. I hold the door for someone. I reach an item on a shelf for a fellow shopper at the market.  I bake a pie and give half the pie to a neighbor who does not cook.

On days I feel strong, I volunteer at my church. I go to a Prayer Group and pray for others. I help a neighbor with her garden.

I have learned that even at times when we are not so strong, we can always give, even in a small way.

I have learned that what seems a small gesture to me, may be a matter of survival to the one on the receiving end of a kindness.

I have learned that, as one who has received a lifetime dose of feeling invisible, someone simply greeting me by name is a bigger thrill than anyone could imagine. ((A hug is even better! ))

I have learned that if you do not care for--  or about- - others in small ways, then the end result surely will become overarching, abject cruelty on a large scale.

The seeds which you plant, whether Love or Hate, become huge and systemic. Even mere indifference is too harsh a stance for me. Martin Luther King said, "Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about the things that matter."

I choose Love.

[Related Posting: [ "The Good Samaritan", 7/13/13].

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