Gift of Giving
There was a quiet suburb of Atlanta, Georgia, where the shadow of Martin Luther King Jr. continued to fall over every street corner and his speeches seemed to be whispered by the wind. It was there that a little black girl named Maya lived. They were not a wealthy family; her dad toiled endless hours at the local steel plant, and her mom sewed garments for the community to eke out an existence. Nevertheless, though financially strained, their little house had open doors and generous hearts.
Maya used to watch her parents give away whatever little they possessed—sometimes a hot meal to the neighbor who'd lost his job, other times a blanket to a homeless passerby. It seemed close to magical to Maya—how could they possess so little yet give so much? One night, when she was sitting next to her father, she finally asked the question that had been on her mind. "Daddy, why do you always assist others when we do not have much ourselves?"
Her father smiled, putting down the old radio he was fixing. "Because happiness is not something you hoard to yourself, Maya," he said, his eyes shining with wisdom. "The best way to be happy is to try to make others happy."
Maya thought over his words, their heaviness sinking in gradually. A couple of days later, the chance to know his words would arrive. It was as cold a winter as Atlanta had experienced in years. Frost stuck to windows, and chilly winds blew through the narrow streets. Returning from school, Maya noticed a woman huddled by herself on a bench at the bus stop, shivering beneath a light sweater. Her hands were folded in front of her for warmth, her breath issuing in misty puffs.
Not giving it a thought, Maya ran home, retrieved her own thick scarf from the coat rack, and ran back to the bus stop. She draped it over the woman's shoulders, who looked up, startled, her eyes filling with tears. "Thank you, child," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Bless your kind heart."
Maya experienced something warm blooming in her chest—a feeling she couldn't quite describe, but it left her light and happy. Returning home, her father noticed she was scarf-less and smiled in knowing. "Did it bring you joy?" he asked.
Maya grinned from ear to ear, nodding. "More than anything," she said.
Her father stroked her shoulder softly. "Then you understand," he said quietly.
From then on, Maya sought every chance to give, knowing that real joy is never achieved in holding on to things for oneself but in sharing whatever good one could. In giving, she discovered the meaning of joy, much as her father had always understood.
"The surest way to be happy is to seek happiness for others." - Martin Lutherking Jr.
