Write for God

It’s been a while since I’ve blogged because a new job with a long commute and long hours have been filling my days.  I love what I’m doing these days, which makes the bumper-to-bumper ride to and from work bearable.  That and good CDs have helped me chill instead of stewing in traffic.

My husband suggested that today was a good day to restart posting because I was saddened to see a former co-worker’s obit in the paper this morning. (For me,  the best way to sort out my thoughts is to hash them out with my husband and then to write.)  Seeing a familiar face in the obits is not the best way to start one’s day.

Until 2006, I had worked with Bob, a dear man who was very good at his job, but who was more successful as a human being.  Until I saw his obit, I had often thought of Bob when I read news articles about local families needing help. 

Bob, you see, had confidentially told me how he sometimes sent anonymous donations to families he read about who were homeless or hopeless. God had blessed him and he didn’t need much to be happy. He felt he had enough to share with others and couldn’t understand why others didn’t do the same if they had the means.

Matthew 6:3 is the mantra of the Bobs of the world who help others quietly, known only to God: “But when you give to the poor, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing.”  That’s how generosity works when it’s done right.

There are no buildings in the Tampa Bay area with Bob’s name on them, no endowments with his framed portrait in some hall, no tax-exempt foundation with an annual gala to honor his memory.  He wasn’t a rich man by any means, but he had a rich heart. A few times I saw tears well in his eyes when we spoke about someone who didn’t deserve whatever life had handed him or her.  Bob was emotional in his love of others and it always showed in his face, whether he was laughing or crying. He was short in stature and his job sometimes meant contact with hostile people, but I could never imagine anyone ever wanting to harm Bob.

There are bushes in our garden that he gave me one day when there were too many left in a shipment he had bought for work. He even wanted plants and bushes to find a loving home instead of ending up unwanted.

After he retired in his 50s and I found other jobs, I lost track of Bob until I saw his face in the obits today.  Whoever wrote the copy–his family or his partner–captured the essence of Bob in quoting one of his favorite sayings: “A true friend is someone who reaches for your hand and touches your heart.”

Bob touched many hearts among those who knew him as well as among those who never knew he had changed their lives with his anonymous gifts through the years. If good deeds build dwellings in Heaven, he must be resting in a fabulous palace today.