Graced opportunities for giving are all around us

This year, 2020, has been a ride. Whatever gets thrown at us, it seems like the appropriate response is: “Well, it’s 2020.”

From the pandemic to a volatile hurricane season, much has been out of our control. People across our community – locally, nationally and globally – have suffered. Natural disasters and medical crises don’t discriminate. They affect us all.

I received a phone call from our neighbor across the street early last week. She’s an older lady who now lives alone, after the recent death of her son. From our first weeks in our home, she has watched out for us – bringing us food in the early months of our arrival after finding out about our twins, checking in on us when she sees us out for stroller rides in the neighborhood.

She’s always been a friendly presence.

Lately, she has been calling more frequently, often just to check in. Loneliness can also be a form of fatigue. But this phone call was different. I had been in the middle of putting the boys down for their nap, so I didn’t answer. But the phone kept ringing. Finally, I picked it up.

She was in tears as she said she had no one else to call. Her COVID test had come back positive. She is in her 70s and had cancer. She was scared. More than anything, I think she just needed someone to talk to, to reassure her.

We offered to drop off groceries outside, keeping our distance, and I asked her to keep us updated.

There’s not much more that we can do – and she acknowledged that she didn’t want to “contaminate” us, especially with our sons.

It’s been difficult. She lives alone. We’re used to seeing her outside, waving at us and cooing over the boys from across the street. Now, she stands inside, looking out, still waving. She’s taken to giving us a thumbs up – all is OK.

The other day she called, letting us know that her symptoms were worsening, but that she was following doctor’s orders. She didn’t want us to be concerned if we saw an ambulance – that would be the number she called in the event that things went downhill. Her oncologist had given her a list of warning signs.

We thankfully haven’t seen an ambulance, and we see her thumbs up sign during our daily walks. She knows our routine, and she waits, watching for us to emerge.

It’s in these moments – the realization that anyone is susceptible – that we see our own vulnerabilities. But it’s also in these moments that we realize our own gratitude.

This year, November should be different. So many in our communities are suffering. Many are rebuilding after storm damage, many are rebuilding and grieving after the loss of loved ones. This November, we may not be able to celebrate in our usual festive ways.

But regardless of the festivities, one thing will remain the same: November is the month of giving. It is a month of gratitude. And in this year, a year in which we have sacrificed so much, we are perhaps more conscious of our own feelings of gratefulness.

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