It wasn’t a full pocket yesterday and he barely had enough today, but somehow, someway the pocket never emptied. It wasn’t empty the day a homeless woman tugged at his arm and asked to be fed. It wasn’t empty the morning he woke up and saw the broken wheel of the bike by his driveway, and a boy standing close by wondering how he would get to the recycling center to exchange the bags of cans. It wasn’t empty when he sat down in front of his computer and scrolled through the pained images of hardened, tragic lives.
It’s never empty. That’s the wonder of his life. It never tires of enough. It never ceases to offer the opportunity to bear for those who can’t or aren’t able to bear on their own.
The pocket is torn, soggy from the rains of many years, and its thread barely holds the coins in place, but it never, ever empties. Like our hearts. It replenishes, it refurbishes and cradles comfort. It beats against all the injustices our eyes have held, and it blinks it away. A beat for a blink, and then it’s gone. The sorrow, the fears, swept away by a sea of generosity.
A recent morning he awoke to news that terror had landed like ash from volcanic trees on the hearts of his brothers and sisters. And although his pocket wasn’t empty, he found that it was beginning to be light. And not the kind of light that uplifts, but a heavy blanket that extinguishes. The beat was hollow, the gesture faint. He thought, If I am a soldier in this land of peaceful treason, let me march away from what is standing on our constant shore. Let me somehow find a way to reach deeper into the pocket of sorrow and pull out and piece together a fragmented glow for those who are lost in the dark. Let it begin with me. Let it start with my pocket, and let it all end without me. Nothing left, but a shadow of me. The follower of love. He blended into the horizon to watch, as the sun rose above a freshly painted plain. A brother, a sister pass by. Gently they gaze and meet his lifeless eyes. His gaze back suggests that maybe his desire to give it all away was too swift, too soon. They respond offering freely from their own depleted pockets . And together they watch as the sun warms their humanity and they feast on nothing but the everything of life.