Hi Characters, I like to tell a story of my dad dying in the palliative care unit. My mom gets a call from a friend of my dad who is in her late 80’s. She insists on visiting my dad in the hospital to say goodbye before he dies. So she talks her nurse into driving some 60 miles in the dead of a Western Canadian Winter so she can get to his bedside. Why?
Apparently some 80 plus years ago my dad and his neighbor friend Alice, the lovely gal referred to above, had to walk three miles to and from school. One miserable blizzard, with frigid temperatures below -30 degrees, found my dad and Alice struggling to walk home. Alice said her hands were so cold she was weeping in pain. Her mitts got wet sitting on the classroom radiator and froze along with her hands on the trek home. My dad, 7-years-old at the time, gave Alice his mitts to wear instead. She never forgot that generosity.
Be abundant. Give up your mitts. You may get a hug 80 years later. Your generosity matters.