By Joseph Mazzella
At this festive time of the year when November turns to December and Christmas approaches, I am always haunted by a memory. It is a memory that hurts my heart and stabs my soul. Yet, I embrace it each year when it returns for the lesson it teaches me.
It happened almost 20 years ago. My children were all teenagers. I had long abandoned trying to guess what they wanted for Christmas and instead each year took a long car trip to a shopping mall. There I handed them each cash and allowed them to pick out exactly what they wanted. This year I had even put aside an extra hundred dollars to pick myself out a few gifts but as I walked the length of the mall I could find nothing that I wanted.
As we finally got in the car to leave I started to drive out to the main road. That is when I saw her, a homeless woman holding a sign asking for help. She looked much older than her age. She was dressed in a torn, threadbare coat. Her gray hair was matted and tangled. Her face was chapped from the winter wind. But the thing that struck me most was her eyes. She had the saddest eyes that I had ever seen. I pulled over the car, took the hundred dollars I hadn’t spent and had my daughter give it to her. She looked at us in disbelief. Then I pulled away and drove on, looking at her in my rearview mirror grow smaller and smaller in the swirling snow.
What troubles me the most about this memory is the knowledge that I could have done more and I should have done more to help her. I feel no pride in what I gave her. I only pray each time I remember this that she found help and was able to find a home again. I pray that she feels God’s Love in her heart and that her eyes are no longer sad but instead sparkle with joy. I know too that one day I will see her again if not in this life then in the next. And when I do, I will ask her forgiveness for driving away that day.
