'Give people the gift of allowing them to give'

The 5 a.m. Baltimore chill cut right through our coats last Thursday, the morning my husband and I flew to Texas for the very first time. We boarded the icy shuttle that runs between airport parking and the BWI terminal. A woman near us on the bus caught my eye: timid but bright, middle-aged, and very alone. When the shuttle stopped at the terminal and the doors opened, she hoisted her bag up—and accidentally dropped it out the bus door and onto the hard ground outside.

In line behind her, I froze. Dropping a suitcase out of a shuttle bus is not the kind of thing to do when you have introduced yourself into a place so Darwinistic as an efficient public airport: a place where lines move forward, where wordless, spontaneous order attends every action, and only the strong survive through security to Gate 12.

The woman flailed after her heavy bag. “I’m sorry!” she called to the bottleneck behind her. “I just had shoulder surgery. I can’t—pick it up.”

But she did pick it up, as quickly as she could and with obvious pain. She looked pitiful and small, hoisting the bag with her one good arm. The crowd on the bus may have contained more than one Good Samaritan, but she didn’t leave sufficient time for virtuous deeds. She struggled before us for only a moment, embarrassing us all into immobility, pulled herself together, and moved on.

For several minutes afterward I wished I could rewind my life. I wished I had known she would drop the suitcase. I longed for a chance to carry it myself. If only she had given it to me!

“Give people the gift of allowing them to give.” There’s a clumsy adage that nonetheless deserves a plaque. We owed our presence at the airport that morning to a generous couple at our church who had offered to pay for our flights. Jonathan had won a scholarship to a writing conference in Austin, and like maniacs we had planned to drive there—all 22 hours. The sudden need for car repairs days before our trip only intensified the blessing of our expensive, gifted airline tickets.

But we did not receive the gift with ease. When the couple approached us in church with the offer, we opened our mouths, staggered. We knew we had to accept. We wanted to. But we also wanted other comforts. To not be humbled. To pay them back.

Weather delayed our flight home by two days, thrusting us—once again reluctantly—on the kindness of God’s provision. Marvin and Susan Olasky took us into their cozy house for all that time, feeding us on sweet potatoes and stowing us in a white downstairs bed. What could we do? We said “thank you.”

The Bible tells us, “It is more blessed to give than receive.” I crave that blessedness. I am just learning to crave it for someone else, to “Give people the gift of allowing them to give.” For that I must shelve my self-reliance, tuck my wallet away, say “thank you,” and follow the finger of God. For every good gift comes from Him.