The Paper Bag

"Acts of Kindness:A random act of kindness, no matter how small,can make a tremendous impact on someone else's life." 

-Roy T. Bennett. (The Light in the Heart)

 You won't see a photo of a paper bag here. You'll have to imagine it. Every time I see one of those  paper bags in the store....the ones that hold items for the food bank...it reminds me of a time when I was so glad to have a paper grocery bag brought to me.

 I was a Grad student,1984,  at U of Redland. I lived in Melrose Hall, supposed to be the "quiet" dorm. Oh, it definitely was NOT quiet. I had the bottom dorm room, the dungeon...horrible,spider infested . Big spiders. California-born no doubt. Bit eyes. Shudder. My mother couldn't afford it, but she got me  a plane ticket down. I got a TA( teaching assistant) position to help with first year tuition,  but things were tight. More than tight. I was so strapped, it looked like I would have to go back home if things didn't pan out.

 I  didn't have a  meal ticket for the campus cafeteria. I couldn't afford it. Not even a partial ticket.  So  at first I  lived on crackers and  peanut butter. I used to count the crackers out. There were roaches plus  spiders in my room. Window blinds were cracked. Floors were cracked. I had no car,and the bus was intgermittent,  so had to walk in the California heat down to the store, my plastic sandals melting on the pavement.  

 One day I decided I would make spaghetti. I hated spaghetti. But it would make a lot and last a few days. I had extra money from teaching; had never cooked in my life. How hard could it be? So I plopped everything into a big pot that I found in the dorm kitchen , and boiled everything up. Well, it cooked into mush, but it cooked. I divided up the pot contents. Figured that would work for now.

 Next morning Iwent to check the fridge to discover that all my food was gone, and the kitchen trashed. The football team had come in the night, raided the fridge and cupboards. Everything was gone. That night I counted out  crackers I kept in my room with the peanut butter.  I had to teach the next day. I had no idea what I was going to do. Plus I wasn't doing very well in my own classes, and  the undergrads hated  my  theory classes. I didn't blame them. I had no idea what I was doing.

 Some of my friends in the dorm tried to help out. They all had meal cards, and would bring me back apples and fruit and what they could from the university food court. Until they got caught one day. 

 Then, a friend was going away for a few weeks and she loaned me her food card. I was able to get in  and eat. Until I got caught. And was asked to leave. I was back to crackers and peanut butter.

 Then one day, one of my dorm mates  changed everything. Mark would come down to the tv area  and watch Bonanza, and  Rifleman reruns. He would go home on weekends to his family in Yucaipa. But during the week we would talk. I would work on my long suffering grad paper, while we talked. At that point in time, my visa was in question as well. It was a scary time. Visa not  revoked yet, but teetering.  Life as a Grad student was not turning out exactly the way I thought it would. Mark left that night for the weekend.

 "Help others without any reason and give without the expectation of receiving anything in return." -Roy T. Bennett (The Light in the Heart)

 Monday morning Mark returned. He brought his mother, his siblings ( I believe) and  she carried a large paper grocery bag. She told me that Mark had told her about how I could use some help. She showed me the contents of the paper bag.

 It was full of wonderful things. Fruit. Veggies. Tupperware dishes filled with  pasta. Bread. Canned goods. Treats. And later on, at Christmas time, little presents of hand lotions, soaps, goodies. 

 It was overwhelming.At first I told her no, it was okay, I  would get by. But his mother would not hear of it. She said every Monday when she drove in from Yucaipa she would bring me a paper bag. She said she would help. She said it was okay to let her help me get on my feet.

 So every Monday morning after that, for almost two years, Mark's mother would show up with another  paper bag of  surprises. I only recall one Monday morning when the bag did not arrive. the entire family had the flu. It would be another week till I saw them again. From then on, I learned how to ration things from the bag. Every week I would wash the containers  and place them back inside and return the bag. Eventually, I managed to get a small fridge .  That way I didn't have to deal with the antics of the football team. They still raided the kitchen  by the way.Still threw stuff against the walls  and ate raw cookie dough.Quiet dorm INDEED....

 Mark still watched old westerns late at night, down in the tv room. That was where I would be typing out that silly thesis for a few months more. My Visa was still up in the air. Frustrating.  Jan 28 1986 we watched the Shuttle Disaster unfold on the small screen  in that same room. We watched and didn't say anything.We were all silent.

  One Sunday, a group of us drove out to  Yucaipa to attend the First Church of God with Mark's family. I can still see that white church, the crosses on the side and a  massive hot tub used to baptize. Or the huge viewing window that looked like a movie screen. Or so many raised hands. Or so much joy.

 The pastor wore a blue suit  and fairly danced  on the podium. It was hot. He was sweating bullets. He was passionate. He was real. Faith was real in that place.It danced.It sang.We were all kind of stuffy and like deer caught in the head lights.But they treated us like we belonged.

 For a while, those paper bags kept coming. But then I decided...well I HAD ... to move out of the dorms. The university had messed up my visa, and I needed to leave.Go live somewhere else.  Live under the wire, so to speak. Finish my Grad thing. Ugh. Figure out what I was going to do. But I was standing on my own two feet by then. I had a ways to go, but I no longer felt so scared. I remember writing his mother a note to say thank you.  I  always felt in my heart that I never said thank you enough. When I was most down mark's family lifted me up and gave me hope. Out of a simple paper bag.

 I finished my degree in 1987, Visa problems not withstanding, and yes, they got worse. But I finally returned to Canada.  I've always wanted to thank them once again. To let them know   they taught me so much more.  And to pay it forward, again and again. I buy those filled paper bags in the grocery store, whenever I'm able, and I think of that time that I was hungry and was fed.......

 "Do not let kindness and truth leave you. Bind them around your neck.Write them on the tablet of your  heart."- Proverbs 3:3

“Always have a willing hand to help someone, you might be the only one that does.” ― Roy T. Bennett, The Light in the Heart