The Hand That Gives, Gathers....

The Hand That Gives, Gathers. I have a small piece of art containing that phrase hanging in my kitchen. It’s a reminder I have found to be helpful when I’m feeling I’ve been taken advantage of or feeling as if I’ve been “used” by someone. It also reminds me of what it really means to give … and what needs giving.




My hand does indeed give. It always has. From an early age my parents impressed upon me the christian notion of “loving thy neighbor” to the extent that I needed to do more than love them, I was to also help them if I could. I was to give of myself, give my time or share what I had if that’s what was needed. I’ve done my best to impart the same value to my own children and from all appearances I would say I’ve been successful. I believe I’ve provided them with an example of a hand that gives rather than just words in a frame hanging on a wall.



Interestingly, the less I have the more I seem to want to give. About five years ago my husband was very reckless and foolish with our money. His actions created a domino effect of declining cash resources to the point where we lost things that cannot realistically be recovered in our lifetime. We have found ourselves to be financial newlyweds in a sense and are figuratively starting over. A daunting attempt to say the least and his efforts to recover have created absences from home and family. His over compensation has divided us and there is a distance there that no amount of money will ever fill. There are needs that cannot be met with cash. Quite frankly I’d rather do without than be without his presence in our home. I rather he give than gather.



Whether I’m giving from my pocket, or my heart, I feel good doing so. I need to do this. Quite honestly both my pocket and my heart have taken a beating over the last few years but I remain undeterred in my giving. Losing what we did has not made me desire to accumulate more or to have more. What it has done is make me want to share more. I don’t need rental properties, frequent vacations, gifts and other such excess to feel secure. Having a financial cushion did not help me sleep better at night. Material things will never be important to me because I’ve never attached any real significance to mine. I’m the same person with … as I am without.



I don’t miss things when they are gone from me. I never did. I miss people, I miss affection, I miss knowing a person is true to the relationship we share. What matters to me, what has always mattered to me, comes from a place that cannot be had for having money. A point my precious husband cannot get into his thick skull. The only thing I’ll ever want in life is … the people I want in mine.



It will never be the loss of money, the loss of material things, that will hurt me. It will only ever be the loss of what my heart has given … or what another heart has given me … that would ever do me real harm. And it will be the hand that gives, my hand that gives, that will heal. For it is in giving, it is in my giving when often so little is there to give, that I will always gather. And what will be gathered will make me truly rich beyond my wildest dreams.



Indeed