My mother taught me
many things. Some things, like tying my shoes, simply made my life easier.
Other things, like “love your neighbor” and “stay close to your siblings” have
dramatically impacted my life. She was a remarkable woman of great strength and
compassion. A widow at a very young age, my mother raised three small children
alone and still managed to be a self-less example of charity and love. Although
she endured pain, loss, and loneliness, she still made serving others a
priority. One cold December day several
years ago, I finally understood what she meant when she said, “The more you
give away, the more you will receive”. Mom had said that phrase to me many
times as a child, but I thought she was only trying to convince me to give away
some of the toys that were cluttering up my room. I had no idea that she was
teaching me a life lesson that would one day change my life. On this particular
winter day, only a few days before Christmas, I was nearly robbed of my faith
in humankind when a group of thugs entered my car and stole boxes of food and
gifts that were waiting to be delivered to the poor in my community.
I
worked as a Director of Religious Education for a small Catholic elementary
school; and like the children in my classes, I was anxiously looking forward to
Christmas and the break from school that would accompany the holiday. The weeks since Thanksgiving were very busy at
the school and the children spent their days making gifts for their parents,
rehearsing songs for the Christmas program, and collecting food and toys for
the needy. One could sense the excitement when walking down the hallway. The
lobby was packed full of boxes of canned goods and other non-perishables; teddy
bears, games, and dolls were stacked up everywhere waiting to greet a happy
child on Christmas morning. The children certainly had outdone themselves with
their generosity. One of my last jobs before taking the well-needed holiday
vacation was to deliver this food to the local food pantry for distribution.
The task was huge and the boxes were heavy, but the knowledge that I was
helping to make someone else’s holiday a bit brighter made the job of loading
the car seem effortless. I was walking on air; that is, until I went out to my
car with another box of food. My car was parked right outside the door of the
school with the doors open, making it easy to stack the boxes in the back seat.
I trudged out the door, carrying a box overflowing with macaroni and cheese and
singing, “It’s Beginning to look a lot like Christmas”, a song my student choir
would perform later that evening during the school’s annual Christmas program.
When I reached the car, I literally dropped the box to the ground, causing cans
of soup and peas to roll underneath my car.
What?
Am I losing my mind? What happened to the rest of the boxes? Where are the gifts I had purchased for my
family? I stood there, my mouth wide-open, in total shock. I was speechless and
could not believe my eyes. Was someone playing a practical joke on me or did I
just get robbed, right here in broad daylight, only a few yards away from an
elementary school full of students? I quickly glanced in the front seat and
confirmed my worst fear. Not only had some thoughtless thugs stolen the food
for the poor and the gifts I purchased for my family, but they got my purse as
well! Shock gave way to anger, then to panic and fear, as I realized that my
driver’s license, checkbook, credit cards, and several hundred dollars of cash
were gone. Tears began to flow down my cheeks as I plopped to the ground in a
pile of snow.
I
had never been the victim of crime before; in fact, I didn’t even know anyone
who had ever been robbed. This was a
small, friendly town and the police station was directly across the street. How
could this possibly have happened? As I sat there in the snow, my fear turned
back to anger as I realized that this one act of crime would affect so many others,
people who were already victims of unemployment and poverty. The tears
continued to flow when I thought about those who were dependent on the food to
feed their children, as well as my own personal loss. I had just cashed my
paycheck and without a credit card or proper identification, I would not be
able to replace the gifts that I had so carefully purchased and wrapped for my
family. What about all the credit cards in my wallet? How would I ever notify
the card companies before the thieves used them?
I
was completely overwhelmed with emotion when the maintenance man came out with
another box of food. I told him what had happened and he helped me to my
feet. We went back in the school to
notify the police and I noticed the last box waiting to be loaded. “Well, at
least we have three boxes of food left to feed 75 families”, I muttered
sarcastically as we entered the school office.
The principal quickly ordered a lock-down of the building. The children,
oh dear Lord, the children; I had forgotten about the children! Thank goodness
no one got hurt. I began to think about the horrific possibilities had an armed
thief entered the building filled with students and staff. The ending of this tale could have been so
much worse.
After
the police arrived and took the report, the principal suggested that I go home
for the rest of the day. I was an
emotional mess so I took her advice and I headed to the comfort of my home to
begin the process of cancelling my credit cards. The quick drive home seemed to
last an hour. I entered my house, which was beautifully decorated for the
holidays, and I began to weep again. This time it was sadness propelling the
tears. I sat down in front of my Christmas tree and looked at the nativity set
that meant so much to me. My grandfather made the stable for me the first
Christmas that I lived on my own, and my mother had purchased the delicate
porcelain figures for me as a gift the year I moved into my own apartment. I
treasure this nativity set now because both my grandfather and my mother have
passed away. I sure miss them; my mother would know just what to say to make me
feel better. I tried to focus on the faces of Mary and Joseph, and think about
how frightened they must have felt that first Christmas. I looked at the gentle
smile of the poor, perhaps cold and hungry, shepherd boy and tried to somehow
reconcile my anger and sadness with “the true meaning of Christmas”; but my
spirit was broken. The thieves had not only robbed me of worldly things, but they
may have taken my Christmas spirit as well.
I
sat there crying until I remembered that I needed to begin notifying my
creditors of the robbery. “I’m sorry to hear of your misfortune, Miss Borawski,
certainly we will cancel your card and send a replacement in 10 -14 business
days, and by the way, Happy Holidays”, was the standard reply I heard a dozen
times. “Happy Holidays”, are you
serious, I thought. How could I ever have a happy holiday when I don’t even
have a gift to give to my nephew, or my sister, or my grandmother? How am I
even going to direct the Christmas program tonight, when my holiday spirit was
riding around with a car full of stolen gifts? Sadness turned back to anger as
I muttered to myself, “So this is the thanks I get for trying to do something
nice for someone else.” I would have been better off to just be a selfish
scrooge; who said it was better to give than receive, anyway. I was angry, sad,
and frustrated all at the same time. My head was pounding, my eyes were
swollen, and I was physically and emotionally spent so I headed to my bed,
pulled the covers over my head, and tried to fall asleep. Maybe I would wake up
to discover that this was just a bad dream.
A couple of hours later I woke to face the
reality that not only had I been robbed, but I also had an obligation to the
children who had worked so hard to prepare for that night’s holiday program. I
quickly showered and changed into my festive attire and headed back to the
school, trying to fight back the tears as I passed the holiday decorations
lining the light poles along the way. I had to turn off the radio in my car
because I could not bear the sound of the joyous holiday carols. “Fake it,
Theresa, just fake it”, I told myself as I traveled the snowy road. This certainly was not the first time that I
ever had to smile when I felt like screaming. I gave myself a pep talk and entered
the building, already filling up with proud parents, grandparents, and nervous
youngsters waiting to perform.
Word
of my misfortune had quickly spread throughout the small parish community, and
I was greeted with hugs and words of comfort as I worked my way to the front of
the stage to make the last minute preparations before the show began. “The show
must go on,” I told myself countless times when I felt the tears well up inside
of me. Satisfied that everything was set to go, I took my place in the front
row to wait for the show to begin. A nervous child let out a scream at the
sudden darkness and the principal appeared in the spotlight. The principal
always opened the Christmas program with a prayer and welcoming comments, and
tonight was no exception. She began:
This morning something terrible happened here
at St. Mary’s. Miss Borawski’s vehicle was robbed as she loaded the boxes of
food that you so generously donated for the poor. The thieves not only took
several boxes of food, but they took her purse and the Christmas gifts that she
had purchased for her family members. We have never experienced anything like
this before, and although we are saddened by the news this unpleasant event, we
are thankful for the safety of Miss Borawski and all the children and staff.
Food and gifts can be replaced, but human lives cannot. Still, we are all
grieving the loss of our security and our holiday spirit as well, but once
again, the kindness and generosity of this parish has been overwhelming. Miss
Borawski, please come up here on stage.
I was stunned. What
on earth was she doing? Doesn’t she know that my legs are already weak and I’m
barely holding it together now? What is she trying to do to me? I slowly made my way onto the stage. Blinded
by the stage lights, I turned to face the crowd. I heard the curtain open
behind me and the principal asked me to turn around. The stage was full of
stuff. Boxes of food and toys and gifts were piled on top of one another. I did
not understand what was going on.
“Miss Borawski, all of this is for you, from
your parish family”, the principal said while handing me several envelopes. She
continued:
I made a few phone calls this
morning and word quickly spread about what had happened and all afternoon
donations have been pouring in. The food is for the poor, and the boxes of
gifts are for you to give to your family and friends. The envelopes contain
cash and gift cards to help you through the holidays. Please accept these
things with our love and appreciation. We cannot thank you enough for all you
do for so many people and we will not allow some thieves to rob you or us of
the Christmas spirit.
“But there is so much,” I quickly protested,
and “these gifts are much nicer than the ones I lost”, I kind of chuckled. “Well”, the principal replied, “I guess the
more you give away, the more you receive”. Just then, a bell went off in my
head. Had she just said what I think she said? Where had I heard that before:
The more you give, the more you receive? Suddenly I remembered my mother and
the words she had said so long ago, and I longed to see her again to tell her
that I loved her and that I finally understood.
Tears
began to flow down my face again as I lovingly thanked the audience and made my
way back to my seat. In that moment, I suddenly understood the joy of the
shepherd boy as he bowed humbly before the newly born Christ Child, broken and
poor, yet overflowing with the feeling of peace and good-will, and for a brief moment,
I swear I could smell my mother’s perfume.
Ironically, in a few months when I look back on Christmas
2013, I sincerely doubt that I will remember what was served for dinner, what
gifts I opened up, what type of wrappings they came in, or how tiring and
stressful it can be to travel. More than
likely, I will remember the joy on the faces of the little children when I
pulled out the guitar and they got to play instruments as we sang carols. Or
the conversations I had with cousins and relatives that I don’t get the
opportunity to see very often. Likely, it will be the love I felt when I visited
my nun friends at the IHM motherhouse and spent the day with my dear friend,
Sr. Therese Michael, and the joy on her face when I agreed to stay for dinner.
It will also be the happiness of seeing my childhood friend, Susan, and her
daughters , one of whom is about 3 weeks away from delivering her 2nd
child and the complete joy in visiting
my dear friends, the Tilley’s and opening a Christmas card from them with the
greeting: to our “6th child.” They have treated me like one of their
own since I was a young child and they fill the void left by the absence of my
own parents.
Or maybe sharing
breakfast with one of my former students that has remained a close friend and
is now all grown up with 3 children of her own. Of course, there are the kids….the
nieces and nephews….the new babies and the old ones…the aunts and uncles and my
brother and sister and cousins. The
bottom line???? It’s not the THINGS I enjoyed; but rather than PEOPLE and the
TIME spent with them that made this one of my best Christmas’ ever. .JPG)
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