A Gift To A Stranger

I suppose it’s ok to tell you this because of the way it turned out..

If it had worked out differently, I wouldn’t mention it.

“Take heed that ye do not your alms before men,” Jesus said. “When thou doest alms, let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth”.

Heck, my right hand never even knows what my right hand is doing. So I suppose I’m ok with that part.

Jesus said that when we give to the poor or do a good deed, we should keep it secret. I think He said that so if people find out, we won’t be embarrassed over how few good things we do or how little we give. Or how little we pray or fast. So Jesus said not to boast about such things — to keep them secret.

That’s why I never get to write about doing anything good in this blog; besides that, if I never get to tell about doing good stuff, readers will assume that I do a whole lot more good than I say — which is bull.

But, since this time it was a bust, I suppose it’s ok to tell about this.

The other day I visited a relative and, because I feel uncomfortable smoking in someone else’s house, I walked out in the backyard to smoke my pipe.

There was a guy out there spray painting some fence parts. White paint fumes rose in the air around him.

The robust old guy, almost as old as I am, looked as thought he’d lost weight recently. He wore paint-spattered jeans, boots, and a work shirt.

He commented on how much he liked the aroma of my tobacco. He looked a bit wistful as he watched my pleasure in smoking. He said he’d always wished that he had a pipe to smoke. We chatted on that level for maybe five minutes.

I never caught his name.

I continued waling around puffing my pipe and admiring flowers; he went on with his spray painting.

The next morning, it occurred to me that I have many pipes in my collection. Pipes I dearly love. But, who needs that many pipes?

I decided to send one to the old guy so I began to put together a packet of goodies for him.

I agonized over which pipes to send. Each one I’d choose, suddenly became immensely valuable to me. I’d find some good reason to keep each one. I did not want to give up any of my pipes.

But eventually, I decided on three. Not three of my very best, but three that draw well, look masculine, and have a good feel to them. Actually, one of them is a drug store pipe, but it is well-carved. The other two are top quality. One, the French one, has a sterling silver band.

I cleaned these used pipes thoroughly, using alcohol to disinfect and to cut tar build-up. I chose my best tobacco pouch, the one I use my self. (I believe we should always give the poor our best). I filled the pouch with my own tobacco, not the cheap stuff from my sandlugs can.

I crafted a metal matchcase for the guy. The same kind of case I carry in my own pocket; his had a new striker, a picture of pirate ships on the front and a modest bikini girl inside the cover. I dug under the cupboard to find the good-quality wooden matches, not the cheap ones I use my self.

I fixed up a cleaning kit with pipe cleaners, wire, etc.

The stranger would have every thing he needs for a satisfying smoke.

I arranged for one of my daughters to come over and deliver the packet of goodies to the stranger.

I regretted parting with my pipes and I felt that I’d spent way too much time on this project which had just captured my fancy. But there was also a sense of satisfaction at having done a good deed…

Word came back to me — The guy is undergoing chemo-therapy for lung cancer.

Yes, I’d sent a packet of smoking materials to a lung cancer patient.

Oh, Crap! How was I to know?

Oh well, it’s as the Bible says, “Even the tender mercies of the wicked are cruel”.