Hey folks, I know it’s been a while since I’ve been around. But I decided to poke my head out of my hiding hole for a little while and get on my hickory stump for a bit of an old country lesson.
The theme of this message is… It never hurts to help.
Now people I am not saying that you have to give up the family farm or put yourself in hardship. But given the things people all around the world are going through it hardly seems wrong to chip in a little in any way to help those that have less than yourself.
It could be a dollar into a Charity Hamper, or a nickel into the that Salvation army kettle with the singing Santa. It could be donating some time to a worthy cause, like serving soup for those less fortunate. All I am saying is that in this economic climate everything helps.
You may ask Bob…What did you do to help those in need. Well my friends I deliver hampers to the less fortunate in Winnipeg.
I take a few nights out of my year and grab some like-minded friends and go spread the Christmas cheer.
I throw on a Santa hat and knock on doors for a cause, I don’t do it to help me but in some way I do. I give my time and my effort for free, and all I get in return is the smiling faces of children who would otherwise have no Christmas. I get the respect and hearty handshakes of immigrant fathers who have fled war-torn countries in search of a better life. Not understanding the generous ways of Winnipeg or even the tradition of Christmas.
In giving back to those who have less, we see more than just poverty. We see the kindness of faith and the redemption of the spirit of charity.
I think that in giving back we can all grow, It does not have to be Christmas, but all faiths can give and become greater.
In the words of my faith Merry Christmas One and All
I know it’s hard out there now, people living of soup crackers and ketchup packages. I’ve been there too, day to day. Wondering if I wouldn’t put a knife to my throat cause I didn’t have gas in the tank or a hope for a place to sleep.
It’s hard for all the working folk out there that have been abandoned. I happen to work for one of those mega corps. I don’t build bombers or death planes. But the guys that pay my rent do.
It’s hard for me, one that’s been in your shoes. To just sit and do nothing, I give what I can. But that’s local.
It’s been a long time since I’ve seen the man I used to call Jesus, years in fact. When I first moved to Winnipeg in the early 1990’s he was already a fixture on the Osborne Village sidewalks. He was always dressed for the cold it seemed, ratty old blue parka, beat up winter boots and a heavy beard.
He was always dirty of course, living on the margins of society for so long. His hair was normally pretty wild and natty. But for some strange reason I found him to be the most agreeable person on the street those days. Most panhandlers back then were pretty aggressive. They would get in your face demanding a smoke or some of the hard-earned change in your pocket. All the while wearing ratty clothes but somehow the new sneakers gave them away. They may have experimented with the lifestyle but they sure were not living it the way he did.
Living on the streets for a night or two I think most people could imagine, but this man lived day in and day out on and around Osborne Village for as long as anyone I spoke to could remember. Rumours abounded that he had a family once, that he had a job, a nice house and a car. All of those things that society uses to judge us a success or a failure. Now he just survived.