A balmy January evening was followed by a frigid, icy day of the kind we rarely get in Louisiana. I wore warm clothing but never warmed up as I drove the thirteen slippery miles to work. I begrudged going in knowing there would be extra patients hospitalized due to the loss of power and water, Dialysis patients can’t forgo treatment. I’d be doing a sixteen hour day and have to spend the night at the hospital to be available for emergency admissions. I thought longingly of my family in my cozy home who’d be gathered before the fireplace later that day, eating stew my husband heated in a cast iron pot in the fireplace. I had a good pity for myself worked up. 

On my way in, I met a co-worker clocking out. I wondered how she’d been lucky enough to be relieved. Then I saw she was crying. I forgot myself.

“Gracie? What’s wrong?” I asked. Gracie wasn’t a crybaby. I’d known her for years.

”I gotta get home! Grandma had clothes hanging in front of the heater and burned the house down. Everybody got out, but everything’s gone! I don’t even have a toothbrush! “ she wept. “My brother’s coming to get me and I don’t even have a coat to wear home.”

I felt so ashamed of my self-pity. “Here, take my coat. I took my wallet out of my purse, leaving her my lunch, comb, brush, lotion, tissue, umbrella and tylenol. “Here, take my purse and coat. This will help a little”

Experiencing her misfortune firsthand made me ashamed of myself. I wished I’d had more to give. Ever since that time. I give what I feel called upon to share. I’ve never regretted anything I gave away. I feel better if I do what I should.