Offering a cup of cold water to the thirsty

In my little meditation book “Abide,” which I am reading during this Lenten season, I came across a section titled, “What's Enough?” The author veers from the fear many of us have of “having enough” materially, to another take on enough. She inserts words like, “Do I have enough compassion? Gratitude? Integrity? Joy? Trust? Contentment? 

My husband thinks he needs more compassion. On the whole, compassion seems something women more than men find easier to muster. I am certain an experience I had last week would never have entered Terry's mind. But compassion comes in many shapes. His mind just has a different geometry than mine. 

He was having a heart test done in a medical building connected with Holy Family Hospital. I waited in the car, but a made a restroom run before we drove off. There was a woman with short curly white hair cleaning the men's bathroom as I headed to the adjacent women's. Something about her demeanor seemed downcast. 

I wished I could bring some cheer into her day. In the women's restroom I noticed several papers strewn across the floor. I thought I could pick them up and she wouldn't have to do it. She wasn't as young as she used to be. 

When I left, she was just finishing up the men's side. I paused a moment — we laughed over whose bathroom was usually cleaner — the men's or the women's. She said they “take turns.” I thanked her for her work. And then I told her I'd picked up some papers off the floor to save her the effort. Not to boast a “good deed” but more so she would feel cared for. 

I left her with a smile on her face — and calling out, “Thank you for picking up the papers.” I hope her day went better than it might have. I know mine did. It was just a small idea for easing her life. Like the “cup of cold water” that Jesus talks about.  

In the dry climate of the Middle East, offering a cup of cold water was understood as a welcome act of kindness. Jesus remarked that the smallest things done in love are noticed by God and have their reward. 

There are so many ways to serve that cup. I miss opportunities every day. Sometimes because I'm focused on that other “enough” — the getting for myself, rather than giving to others. 

One question asked in this reflective reading is, “If you aren't happy with what you have, how could you be happier with more?” It becomes a revolving door — trying to get more.  

The “enoughs” that can't be bought or sold don't even know what a revolving door is. They are “new every morning” — like the mercy of God. And they can show up in the unlikeliest of places. I found that out.