The Gloves
Simply Sunday 01: Open Hands
Happy Sunday! Each week I’ll be sharing a quick “Simply Sunday” story… one that invites us to pause and think about a practical theme that we can carry into the week ahead. While these Simply Sunday stories will incorporate a thread of my personal faith, you can join me here regardless of your belief background. My story doesn’t have to be your story for you to appreciate the practical theme I’ll be sharing.
On my daily commute to The Children’s Hospital for work, I sometimes had the luxury of curbside service, when my dad, who worked nearby at the time, dropped me off at the front door of The Children's Hospital. That’s right, as a 30-something working professional, Daddy still sometimes drove me to work. I wish I could tell my 16-year-old self how much I would delight in that someday. I relished sharing a commute to spend a few extra minutes with him, and then I had only a few short steps to the front door of the hospital atrium, which was warm and welcoming. It was a great way to begin my workday. Those were the best days. Especially on the cold days.
But other days, I had to park in the employee parking garage about a mile from the hospital. Then, I waited for the employee shuttle to transfer me to work. When the weather was nice I liked to walk. But Oklahoma weather is moody, and sometimes that meant waiting outside for 5, 10, even 15 minutes for the employee shuttle to arrive. Those were not the best mornings. Especially on cold mornings.
A particular winter day was one I will never forget. I was scrambling to make it to work on time, and traffic was especially slow. And it was cold. Really cold.
But much to my surprise, when I walked out to my usual waiting spot, the employee shuttle was already waiting, as if it were expecting me. I was the lone rider, so it was just the bus driver and me.
As I got on the bus, she greeted me with a smile and immediately began apologizing for the cold seats, as the bus heater hadn't warmed up quite yet. She was shivering as she drove and mentioned how she couldn't believe people sometimes left their gloves on the bus. She said she always turned them in to the lost and found, but she sometimes contemplated whether to keep them for herself. She continued to apologize profusely that it wasn't warmer where I sat.
Offer her your gloves.
It was almost as if it had been spoken out loud, but I knew it was a voice in my heart that only I could hear.
What gloves?! I silently asked God. I looked down at my own cold, bare hands.
Look in your bag. You have gloves in there. Offer them to her. The thought was so clear, so unmistakable. And yet it certainly didn’t come from my own conscious thoughts.
So, I looked in my bag, and sure enough, there they were…gloves I hadn’t remembered were in my bag… otherwise I would have already been wearing them, trust me! But these weren't just any gloves. These were GLOVES. These were very nice running gloves with special grips on the finger pads so that I could use my phone to track my running route or change up my music while wearing them. They were a gift from my husband one Christmas, and they had been worn for many miles of long, cold, runs.
Oh, no. Surely you didn't mean THESE?! I almost laughed to myself. Did I say that out loud??
Yes. Those are the ones. Offer her your gloves.
For the entire bus ride, I had an internal struggle with God, reminding Him that my husband JJ and I were about to start training for a big race, and that I would need them on our next cold run. Maybe I could buy some less expensive more practical gloves for the bus driver and bring them to her another morning...???
But, as we arrived at the hospital and I stood to exit the bus, gloves in hand, my heart was pounding. I knew what I had to do. Besides, I guess they really were just gloves after all.
"Here, I actually have some gloves in my bag for you. I know it's really cold today, and I don't want you to freeze all morning," I offered as I held them out to her.
She was speechless. Her face lit up with the biggest smile, and she almost looked as if she might cry.
Then she said, "Oh my gosh. Thank you SO much. Wow. But you should keep them, I really will be okay. But thank you. Oh my gosh!"
As I lingered for a moment to make sure, she assured me she would be okay and that I should keep them. But as I walked away, I could hear the sweetest sound of laughter coming from that bus. She was in disbelief that anyone would offer her their own gloves. Especially those gloves.
See. That's what she needed today. She needed to know that someone saw her. Someone would care about her even enough to offer her their own gloves. Oh. And you...you needed to practice looking up. Listening. Letting go. Trusting Me. Even when it didn’t make sense. Especially when it may cost you something.
So many times, we over complicate things. We make it all about us. We weigh the sacrifice it may cost us to make someone else feel seen. We hold on too tightly, as if it may be too extravagant/ too empathetic/ too unreasonable to offer our hands to someone else. Especially when it costs us something.
This week… who will you “offer your gloves” to? It doesn’t need to be actual gloves, of course. Who will you see, that is often overlooked? Who is right in front of you that you might otherwise pass by without another thought? Who needs the gloves that you have to offer? Because in the end, it isn’t actually about the gloves at all.
It’s Simply Sunday,
Leigh