Last week I had the privilege of helping a cousin pack up and move from his antebellum home in Virginia, a home he has loved, and grieved leaving. I can identify. My cousin Mason is my beloved and deceased Uncle Barry’s son. He lived alone and had little social support. He is not healthy, including having congestive heart failure. When I spoke with him a few weeks ago and heard that he was moving, he was so short of breath that he could hardly speak. I decided to do what I could to help. I traveled to his home three hours away in Virginia on two separate occasions over two weeks, managing his move.

You might wonder why I consider this a privilege. Why would I think that standing on my feet for many days, going through a lifetime of someone’s possessions, packing some, throwing out more, and donating the rest would be a privilege? I consider it a privilege simply because I was able to help someone who really needed help, without an expectation of anything in return. I was able to get outside of myself for a week and give selflessly to another, for no reason other than I could, and if I could, I should. So, I did.

I do not mention this in a prideful manner, but in a humble one.  It was humbling for me to be able to give of my time and of myself. While I was physically exhausted for days and am still recovering, the exhaustion I feel will dissipate and I will be left with wonderful memories. Memories of getting outside of myself and helping someone who truly needed help. I have not done enough of this. While I do not like to think of myself as selfish, I can’t recall ever before giving of myself in this manner. Oh sure, I have helped others in small ways, but never as much as I could have or should have.

In some ways, I was paying it forward. I had lots of help packing up and cleaning out our home of thirty-five years a year and a half ago.  Although I thought I did, I probably did not really appreciate what others gave to me when they helped with our move. After this recent experience, I have a much greater appreciation for others’ gift of time and sweat equity.   

Mason wanted to pay me for my help, but I would not let him. His heartfelt appreciation was more than enough “pay.” I just asked him to “pay it forward, in whatever way he can whenever he can.