Cleaning lady

So I was feeling very sorry for myself today. Matt has been gone since Monday, our steps are barely crossable b/c of a leaky gutter over the stairs that drips onto the stairs and then freezes, Johnny split open a styrofoam packaging that he threw all over the basement to make it "snow" inside, and the car battery decided that it was just too cold to work today (I can relate). I haven't even felt up to the task of running the garbage out through the knee-deep snow into the alley, so I've been letting the bags pile up in the mudroom. I had always planned to take them out, just when it's 20 above zero, not 20 below. Our basement is the refuge for cold winter days like these, but even the basement is a little chilly for me, and stuffed to the top with way too many toys. I started to clean out the toys that are broken, have missing pieces, or are just not being played with.

Anyhow, I was looking forward to having the cleaning lady come today. What a wonderful treat it is. I recognize it and appreciate it. Johnny was learning how to say, "mi nombre es Johnny. Como se llama? " I was asking her in Spanish how Christmas was. She spent the holiday with her 6 siblings who all live in Chicago. I asked her if her parents are living. She told me they are, but they live in Mexico and she hasn't been able to see them for 10 years. She finished up just as I was getting Johnny ready to take to school. I told her to please leave the garbage in the mudroom, that I would get it when it warmed up slightly. But when I emerged from the basement, she was out in the mudroom, having cleared it of all garbage. I felt awful. I gushed a thank you while she finished and put on her coat and walked out the front door. Johnny put on his coat for kindergarten and because today is the day we pick up the neighbor through the alley for school, we walked out the back. And on the back steps, I ran into the cleaning lady. Apparently, as she was taking the garbage out, she saw an art set that the kids got two years ago for Christmas and used once. I had thrown it away because it had missing pieces, but she knew her kids wouldn't mind. She looked down, embarrassed, smiled sheepishly with the art kit in her hands, and said in English, "For my kids. I hope it's okay."

Now, I know this is sounding like one of those e-mail forwards designed to make you feel like the rich, spoiled, lazy people that we all are, and believe me I have been feeling like that for the past several hours, but it's not a good feeling to stay with. Being grateful and praying for those who are less fortunate are all very good. We should all do that. But is there something other than gratitude and prayer that can come from this? An action perhaps, rather than just a thought?