Empty Suitcases

We only keep what we give away.
When a young mom gave birth to her first son, she received lots of presents from friends who knew she didn’t have anything for a boy.
One gift stood out, though. Rather than buy a gift, this friend, the mother of two older boys, went to her own sentimental box and gift-wrapped a Baby’s First Christmas bib and a beautiful piece of art from her own nursery.
A few months later, at the crack of dawn, the young mother received a phone call. The friend’s house had burned down in the night.
In the days that followed, it became clear that the only mementos her friend would be able to retrieve, like pictures of her children, were going to be the ones she had given away to grandparents and friends, including a bib and a piece of art from her own nursery.
I know this is a true story because my friend gave me the bib and the art when my son was born.
Recently, a lady told me a story about her husband, which illustrates the truth about hilarious giving.
This family makes regular trips to a beloved third world country, but on their first trip, they were overwhelmed by all the physical needs that go unmet daily in that place.
As they were packing to return home that first time, her husband suddenly flipped over his suitcase and dumped all the contents on the bed.
“We are giving this all away,” he announced with excitement.
Knowing how Americans travel, I can easily imagine a suitcase stuffed with blue jeans, t-shirts, button-downs, and several pairs of shoes, all things of extreme value in a country where people often go hungry and barefoot.
Having made many friends in the weeks they were there, they immediately found folks who received the goods joyously.
“Who wants this shirt? Who needs flip flops?”
Imagine the excitement as they tossed each item across a room crowded with folks who had gathered to see them off.
Her husband left with empty suitcases, but I bet his heart was full.
And imagine how he blessed his own wife and kiddoes.
We only keep what we give away.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.