WHO SAYS THERE’S NO FREE LUNCH?

Happy New Year! Thought it would be nice to start 2008 off with an upbeat story.

Here’s an article that caught my eye in the local paper the morning after Christmas. It’s about a woman who wanted to do something to spread the holiday spirit and found a simple way to reach out and touch people in need. If you enjoy a feel good story, take a look.

http://www.marinij.com//ci_7808439

This Christmas tale struck a chord in me and stayed in the back of my mind while we were away on vacation the rest of the week. Maybe it’s because before, during and after the holiday season, my wife, Wendi, and I have been talking to our children about the whole idea of giving versus getting. It’s been an uphill battle because for kids growing up in a materialistic culture, it’s hard to embrace the concept of giving when there’s so much stuff to be getting. Combine our society's consumerism mentality with the hard-sell holiday advertising that floods every media platform imaginable and the message is that there’s no such thing as too much. And it’s not just children who fall under the influence, we adults crave new toys, too. Don’t get me started about an iPhone.

We weren’t having much luck with continually talking about selflessness and being of service, it became increasingly obvious that the only way the kids would really get the lesson was to actually experience it for themselves. Yes, they did donate some of the money they received as gifts from their grandparents this year to Heifer International, a very worthy organization devoted to ending world hunger. While giving money is important and a good habit to instill, in some ways it’s almost a little too easy, the whole process done in a matter of minutes, without any direct connection or real effort.

On New Year’s Day, I woke up and had a thought. Why not simply duplicate what the woman I read about did to feed those in need? We could get started immediately and would have complete control over the process. In our case, that last element was key because we wouldn’t get stuck in “the world's problems just seem too big and I don’t know what I can do” mindset. This was a goal that was easily defined and very much within reach.

At 10 AM, the family kicked into action (fortunately, we go low key on New Year’s Eve so there were with no hangovers to deal with, except from too many shots of chocolate). The assignments were handed out: my son, Joshua would make Happy New Year’s cards, my daughter, Samantha, and I would go grocery shopping and Wendi would fill in as needed on the assembly line. We opted for a menu that was executable in a 90-minute time frame. Sandwiches, fresh-baked cookies and fruit. Plus, a $5 bill pinned to each card.

Shortly after noon, we had 20 lunch bags ready to go. We drove down to St. Vincent De Paul’s dining room, where I had called ahead of time and found out they would be open until 1 PM. It was a run-down looking building with a representative mix of people on the down and out gathered around in front. Not exactly a scene from It’s a Wonderful Life.

I went around the back and found one of the staff members and asked if it would be OK if we distributed some lunches. “OK? That would be great,” he said, “we actually don’t have bags to hand out today.” It was one of those slightly kismet moments, when it feels like maybe there’s some bigger spirit, higher power, karmic energy, whatever, at work.

As fate would have it, there were only about 20 people scattered about the dining room. Our kids, who are usually not shy, suddenly seemed somewhat intimidated by the thought of speaking to strangers who don’t look like the people they’re used to interacting with, no less connecting with them on personal level. Humanity becomes very real when you look someone right in the eye. Words like homeless, poor, alcoholic, addict and street person transform into someone sitting right in front of you, whose life has taken a rough turn. A kind word and friendly smile, especially from a child, is a wonderful gift and “Happy New Year” always has a ring of hope and the promise of new beginnings.

It wasn’t all warm and fuzzy for our kids. Joshua clung to my side and Samantha was a little taken aback when one woman reached down to hug her and kiss her head. But there’s no etiquette book for this kind of situation, you just have to wing it and have faith that it’s going to be alright. Some people smiled and returned New Year’s salutations, others accepted the bags without comment, perhaps, bewildered by the sight of young children appearing out of nowhere. The last bag went to an older gentleman with a worn and grizzled face who looked down at Joshua, asked his name and proceeded to elaborate with great enthusiasm about a book he was reading where the hero was named Joshua. His unexpected congeniality was the perfect punctuation to our service experiment, replacing fear with possibility.

Our encounter lasted about ten minutes, and then, the lunches were all gone. As we exited the dining room, no one said good-bye, it wasn’t like we were leaving a party. We’d had a brief moment of casual communion and then, it was over. But at least, our kids finally had a hands-on opportunity to test drive the spirit of giving and see what it feels like to get behind the wheel of kindness and compassion.

Back on the sidewalk, we looked at each other with a small measure of satisfaction. A tiny, yet bold vision that had been hatched just hours earlier had been fulfilled. How often does that happen in life? After weeks of discussion and debate, we had finally figured out a way to show our children that giving isn’t just about presents or money and that the simple act of being of service is also an incredible gift to yourself.

As we drove home, I asked everyone to share a little of his or her experience. Wendi said that we finished handing those lunches, all she wanted to do was make 100 more. I added that it wasn’t so much what we did, but the spirit that we did it in that really mattered and that I was going to call the woman from the newspaper who helped instigate our little project, to thank her for providing the inspiration.

We waited for the kids to chime in. Samantha said she enjoyed making all the food, but felt a little uncomfortable actually handing the lunches out and wondered if anyone there thought that she was thinking that she was better than them. Joshua added that it was a little weird for him, too, but that he liked the smiles on people’s faces when he handed them a bag. Neither one said much after that and rather than forcing a storybook ending to our day, we acknowledged their mixed and very genuine feelings. This was meant to be about reality, not some make believe story where everyone lives happily ever after.

But I also saw something in their faces, that special sense of feeling proud, yet humble. I bet that those brief moments of heartfelt connection will keep swimming around somewhere in their little minds and now, that they’ve had a taste of their own humanity, I can only hope that they'll want to keep on giving throughout their entire lifetimes.

That might be the best gift they could ever ask for.