I don’t remember the name of the kind soul who thought it her duty as a teacher to donate her daughter’s hand me downs to me during my fifth grade summer school year. She was my typing teacher. I’m sure my studious nature and quiet demeanor won over her affections. I was a scrawny girl, still speaking with a weird, misplaced Caribbean accent. I was painfully shy and my clothes may have hinted at being somewhat worn. They were carry overs from a better season in my life. Times were suddenly hard and forward fashion was at the bottom of my mama’s list.
Being in the field of education and social work, exposes me to the many needs of young people. The average child bears many a burden. Maslow’s hierarchy of needs barely tells the tale of children who go from meal to meal and pillar to post. I hosted an annual winter coat drive each year at my former school. Boys would show up in their older sister’s pink hoodie sweater. No shame in their game, just trying to stay warm on a brisk Miami “winter” day. God bless the donors who paid it forward and blessed an unknown youth with a sweater that was gender friendly, lol!
I wonder if those donors, like myself, had come across a kind soul in their past. A stranger to them who sensed a need and brought a box full of gently worn items that were lovingly washed and re-gifted. There’s a famous quote that says service is the rent we pay for our stay on earth. Thank you to those who paid your mortgage ten times over in quiet service through your giving. The recipient may never cross paths with you in this life time. Just know that it was enough to know that someone out there somewhere cared.