A Shirt for My Sister
May 3, 2017
When I was eight I fell in love with a shirt. It was blue and white, with colorful stripes across the front. I wore it whenever I could.
Bleeding Heart Flower By Muffet [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons
Most of my clothes were plain and cheap, and I was okay with that. But I sure loved that shirt. One day the shirt disappeared. I assumed it would show up in the laundry, but it never did. I missed my favorite shirt, but life went on.
Years later, I mentioned this memory to my mom. She got a funny look on her face and then told me the rest of the story.
As we were growing up, my mother had a dear friend with four kids, including a daughter my age. This friend was a single mom who had been dealt a difficult lot in life. Feeding and clothing her family was a real struggle. Each time they visited our home, my mom would notice the children’s worn-out clothing and wish she could help. Sometimes she would send them home with clothes gathered from our drawers.
She had given them my favorite shirt.
“But that was MY shirt! Why didn’t you ask me? Couldn’t you have given them something I didn’t like?”
My mother apologized. She hadn’t meant to give away my favorite shirt. She was just trying to help a sister in need.
Silly as it sounds, I still feel a twinge of longing when I think of that shirt. And guilt. Because if it had been my choice, I would have given that girl my worst clothes, not my best.
It is so much easier to give the leftovers instead of the first-fruits. I have no problem donating worn-out shoes and boring books. When the food drive comes, the first thing I think of is that old case of green beans. Unfortunately, this kind of giving doesn’t really feel that great. Neither, I would guess, does it truly minister to those in need.
The best kind of giving is the kind that comes from your heart. It may hurt a little to give of yourself, but it’s a sweet pain—a growing pain. Your heart stretches as you extend it to others. The miracle is that giving of yourself doesn’t leave you incomplete. It completes you.
My mother’s example of selfless service has given me an ideal to strive for. She has spent her whole life feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, and visiting the sick and lonely. She does it out of love—love for people and love for her Savior. And she counts it as a privilege.
After all, wasn’t it for us that Christ paid the ultimate price? He gave all and held nothing back. And what does He ask in return? All He asks is that we love Him with all our hearts and love our neighbors as ourselves:
“Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these, my brethren, ye have done it unto me.”
“For…I was naked and ye clothed me.”