The Saturday Journal: With the Gift Comes the Giving

tathelmillerwriter
Jun 29, 2024
4 min read

Updated: Jun 30, 2024

Two weeks ago, I had the blessing to share a classroom with six of the brightest--most fun--most imaginative--most creative children. They called me the teacher of these creative writing classes, but that was far from the case. It was this group of eight, nine, ten, and eleven-year old's that taught me the most.

Each day we had writing prompts and on this particular day the children were given "an imaginary gift" of cash in the sum of $10,000 to $100,000 dollars. But these gift had restrictions--stipulations--a price. They could only keep one-tenth of the money. The rest they had to give away to organizations---to people in need and they had to write their thoughts on why they chose who would receive their gifts. And they had some good answers--wonderful answers--buying clothing, food, pillows, tents, supplies for the homeless--donating money to St. Jude Children's Hospital to help kids with cancer.

There are gifts and talents each of us are given--whether we want to acknowledge them or for that matter--even use them. And they are treasures--a gift which comes with a price. They are to be given away.

It was the bottom of the ninth and the Myrtle Beach Pelicans were trailing 4-3. With runners on first and second, the last two batters fell short and the Pelicans walked off the field--defeated. Now these Minor League players, even though they are one step closer to the big leagues--it doesn't mean they have big-league salaries or luxuries. They are far from it. However, they continue to work hard--day-in and day-out because they are well aware they have been given gifts and talents--an opportunity that many young men would give their right arm to be where they are now.

And there's these young boys and girls lined up at the fence with pens in one hand--a baseball in the other--hoping one of the players would take notice and sign an autograph or two. Leaning against the fence myself, waiting for my son and my grandson--I watched as each player walked toward the field house--some with their heads hung low--never turning to look toward the crowd. But there were a few who came over and took a few minutes with the kids--the fans--signing ball after ball. And then they quietly walked away. Now, there weren't any big league names-but in those kids' eyes as well as adults--win or lose--they were heroes on this night.

The heron's in the pond this morning--the rippling waters envelope her long legs--she stands still at the edge of the water. Geese are singing their morning hallelujah song, and the wind blows as a gentle kiss on the cheek. I don't know why this heron stands in one place for so long--almost perfectly still. She's here though and I love this place and I watch her for the longest time and she gives me this gift of a story through our Creator.

She's been up early--frying eggs--bacon--sausage--adding butter to the grits. And I was waiting at the buffet line when she brought out the fresh bacon dripping with the good stuff. I said thank you and she lifted her eyes slightly toward my direction and whispered, thank you. I don't think she realizes what a gift she has and how that gift of being a servant touches many. And maybe it's because she hasn't been told often enough.

It's just minutes before the first pitch and there's several of us waiting in line for hot dogs--drinks--nachos smothered in chili and cheese and the biggest drinks hands can carry. The place was loud--noisy--people getting impatient--moving from one line to the next. I was in the barbeque line. It was moving pretty fast. And then on the television screens in the concourse the words blare out, 'please remove your hats and stand as the "vocalist" sings our National Anthem, The Star-Spangled Banner.

And the noise ceased--the world stopped spinning it seemed. No orders were taken. No words were spoken. Everyone (except a few) stopped in their tracks and looked up at the television monitors. Men took off their hats. There were hands on hearts--some placed behind their backs--in reverence and respect. And once the last line in the song was sung--everything went back to business as usual--ballpark hot dogs being drowned in ketchup and mustard and jalapenos and who knows what else. I stood there for a moment in silence--trying to wrap my mind around what just happened. I got my food and went back to my seat and before the first batter stepped into the box--before the first pitch was thrown--the Pelicans recognized Veterans in the crowd and the special monument in the park--a reminder to never forget the POWs and MIAs.