Gracious giving and receiving are both blessings

The Roy family has a long history of used cars and vans. With six kids and a lot of long-distance driving, it means that those vehicles get driven to their deaths. One day they just simply cease breathing, and hopefully it’s not while we’re driving on a bridge. (Actually, that did happen once. Regardless, we move on.)

This past month has had a doozy of car tragedies. Our van had already had some issues in the summer, but Scott – not afraid of grease – was able to resuscitate it. Then our son Andrew was in an accident, writing the car off on his way back to college. At a moment’s notice, Scott had to jump into that van, cross the border, pick Andrew up, and take him the rest of the way to Santa Paula, Calif. More than 40 hours of driving in three days was a lot for Scott, and for the van.

A week or so later, Nicolas’ little beater seized up and left him carless at the beginning of his school year.

And then a few days later, while driving to Mass our van decided it was just too much and went into “safety mode,” which means ironically that it just turned itself off while we were on the freeway. We pulled to the side of the road and Scott tried to figure out what was happening under the hood. The kids and I got out of the hot van (the a/c has a habit of being broken) and sat on the barrier.

While Scott was getting greasy in his suit and tie, a little car pulled up right behind us. (I’ll preface this by saying that if we see someone on the side of the road, we try to see if they need help. Usually, people say they’re fine – they have a cellphone or they’ve called a tow truck. So we just drive off.)

But this young guy Darius who pulled up behind us didn’t ask questions. He was determined to help.

Darius got out of his car – a modest little thing with bags stuffed in the back – walked straight over to Scott and simply said he was there to help. He was a car mechanic and “It’s what I do,” he said.

For however long, he tinkered about, chatting with Scott and digging deep into the bowels of the engine.

Eventually, they shook hands again and Scott gave me the good news: it would be an easy fix that he could do himself for not a lot of money. That was a great relief as all appearances had told us we would be starting a new search for a car.

Meanwhile, Darius made his way over to us, wiping his blackened hands and arms, as determined as he had been when he arrived. He pulled out his wallet and handed Scott a hundred-dollar bill.

I was a bit mortified. Scott tried to refuse it, but again Darius was determined. (It’s important to understand that he did not seem like he was overflowing with an abundance of hundred-dollar bills. That gift cost him something.)

Embarrassed as I was, I wanted to give him something in thanks for his help. I remembered I had a fresh jar of my bees’ honey in the van with me.

As strange a gift as it was, I passed it to Scott to pass to Darius, knowing it was a pathetic return for the money and his work on our car. But I cannot convey his response to that jar of honey. You would honestly have thought it was we who came to his rescue.

Darius took the jar of honey in both hands and held it up to look at it through the sunlight, admiring its colour and bits of pollen.

He looked at me, kind of bowed his head, and said, “I could not have asked for anything better than this.” Seriously. Then he got back in his car, admiring the honey and taking the lid off. He waved at us and continued on his way, hands and arms still dirty.

I felt the story needed to be shared. It was shocking to us, and I was choked up afterward. I have often said that receiving a gift well is as virtuous as giving one. To allow another the opportunity to give something of themselves to you is a gift to them. How many times I’ve offered something to someone and, trying to be polite, they’ve rejected it.

People don’t want their gifts or offers of help to be rejected. With determination, Darius gave us the great gift of offering us his help and his money, which he possibly needed more than we did. He would not be refused. And then he graciously received the small and only gift we had to offer him with just as much graciousness.

I asked Scott how it was possible that Darius had made me feel like I had somehow done something wonderful for him with that jar of honey. 

I suppose that is my point in sharing this story. Darius was both a determined and gracious giver and receiver. He allowed us to give and receive in return. His 10 minutes with us were shocking and strange and a blessing.

So God bless you, Darius. We have prayed for you in thanksgiving.

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