Teresa Hirst

My parents visited in November and brought this box. They unloaded pies, pears, apples, oranges, Cool Whip, a Christmas poinsettia and a resurgence of much-needed hope for the winter months. They returned home to Missouri and left their box.

I know my mom must miss it. It’s large. It’s sturdy. And it has handles. I imagine she’s taken vegetables from her garden, clothes to new moms and meals to the sick in this box. It’s meant for giving.

The gifts from her box carried me through the longest days of winter, pushing me forward in the continued economic disruptions to our lives. Now, as spring emerges, so have chances to use her box.

A new baby born.

A neighbor in need.

The unexpected death of a humble friend.

My mom left more than a box; she left me with a desire to give again.

It’s so easy to become self-absorbed when I struggle myself.  Too little to do. Too much to do. Not enough resources to do anything. These circumstances didn’t take away my capacity to give. Turning inward, rather than outward did. My self-absorption suppressed the generous spirit I learned from my mother.

Something has changed in me. People right in my path had needs that I could see and fulfill more easily than in the past few years.  Even though my box appeared empty, I acted on generous thoughts and gave what I could.

And when I did, the box replenished itself.