Giving in the quiet
He or she…I have never seen their face. But this person they drive in and out of my neighborhood in the early morning–delivering newspapers. And on more mornings than not, I stand at my kitchen window waiting for the last drip of caffeine to splash dark in my cup. The cup that looks like sunshine–the cup my dear friend gave me. The cup that says “A friend loves at all times”, Proverbs 17:17.
The delivery person, he or she, they slow and honestly I thought the person was trying to avoid the neighbors’ dogs who like to think they are more the speed control dogs–no one can go too fast with them guarding the road–barking. But this 4-wheel drive, the dogs treat it a little different–less harsh, never barking or darting out in front of it.
What is this delivery person doing, I thought. And then I watch as the vehicle comes to a complete stop. The window rolls down, a hand reaches low and the two dogs—they walk away with dog treats. And I have not witnessed this just one time, but on several different occasions. This act of kindness, of giving.
They said we do this every Saturday morning. The Topsail Island Sea Turtle Patrol. Every nest along the beach–every Saturday morning. They secure the posts–clean the runway–rake away any trash or obstacle that could hinder a baby turtle from reaching the ocean.
Turtle eggs take anywhere from 45-90 days for the babies to hatch. That’s as much as 13 Saturdays of time given. And the closer to the time of the hatching of the eggs these givers, they camp out at dusk every evening and they wait for the babies to dig their way out of the sand and make their way home to the sea.
The members of the Patrol, they give.
These quiet givers. They see a need, a place where they can make a difference and they give. And this doesn’t just happen on beaches or on rural roads. These silent givers give to our children at schools, on school buses, to our sick and hurting in hospitals, rest homes, churches….
And there are no trophies or fanfare for these givers. No plague on a wall or buildings named in their honor. No public applause. There is only the sound of quiet–of selfless surrender.
The changing of the season is near and fall is upon us. The leaves on the trees have shined their brightest, the deepest of greens, and soon many will dance their slow descent before their skin can transcend into orange and reds and purples.
And on this evening there’s this lone leaf slowly spinning in the air and I cup my hands reaching and it twirls away from me landing softly on the ground and there on the green grass lies this heart. The heart, it reminds me of the faceless and nameless, the givers who reach out their hands and hearts in kindness and expect nothing in return.
And God, the greatest of all givers–with His gentle breath, in the quietness–He gives.
He was oppressed, and He was afflicted, yet He opened not his mouth: He is brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so He openeth not his mouth. Isaiah 53:7