A Boy, A Bike, and A Benefactor: A True and Heartwarming Rivendell Tale If you are living here and now, you probably notice a scarcity of kindness and generosity. You aren’t sure how we got here and how to change it, and also, you’re exhausted. What can we really do? This is a story that turns one’s typical experience on its head - a story that takes the word kind and stretches it, tests it, transforms it. In this story, we see the word kindness become generosity.
Generous. When was the last time someone was generous with you? So generous you stood there, nonplussed and humbled? Merriam-Webster defines the word generous as “liberal in giving: openhanded.” I will tack onto that definition from the Book of Leah: “giving until it pinches a bit; the kind of giving that costs one something; giving without expectation for something in return; a higher form of kindness.” (Also, there would be some stuff about Jesus in there, but this is not that forum so I will refrain, but it will be hard.) Where you find generosity, there you will find kindness, also. This is a story about a benefactor. This is a story about a boy. And finally, this is a story about a bike. Your icing on the cake: this is a story about a convergence of the three. I had found myself in need of a bigger bike for my 12 year old son, Ethan. He had ridden his Specialized Hotrock from 1st grade until now, his 7th grade year. In kid years, that’s a coon’s age to have ridden one bike. We ride to school every week, 2 miles one way, and we need dependable, quality bikes to do it. Bikes for pre-teens are rare as hen’s teeth; but you know this. The company I was depending on for a kids’ bicycle had suddenly closed its doors, so I turned to the Riv List, as is my custom. Though disappointed about losing my first choice, I knew I’d be shown the right places to shop, and be on my way with the problem solved. This is exactly what happened. I reached out, people were kind, I took a recommendation, and I ordered a bike with a bullet-proof return policy. Several days went by, and then one night I decided to clean out my email. In my Junk folder, there was an email I had never seen, from several days prior, and this is what it said: “If you are second guessing yourself, and humble enough to accept a generous gift for one of my favorite riding families; if you would accept a 45cm Clem to pass down to your boys I would happily cover the difference between the Woom you ordered and the mini Clem to help RBW. My only request is that if you accept; to keep me anonymous.” Let that sink in. Do you know what he’s saying? Look again...read it a few times...see if you can believe it. He had to spell it out for me when I couldn’t get my mind around it. Emails. A phone call: Take the money you planned to spend on the other bike; put it into a little Clem, the rest is covered. This is a Benefactor, proposing a deal that costs him to bless another. An openhanded giver, giving so that it pinches. When was the last time someone was generous to you? Once I understood, there was a choice to make. What did the Benefactor ask? Am I humble enough to accept a generous offer - that was his question. Reflexively: I am not, and this is pride. I don’t deserve a Benefactor. I didn’t earn this bike. I haven’t done anything for this man. I won’t likely have a chance to repay him for his kindness. How can I make it equal? Fair to him? Say no, said my pride. When was the last time someone was generous to you? Did you allow it? So we spoke on the phone. We had a lovely discussion about who he is and how he arrived at this idea, and why he sent the email. Then I realized: my Benefactor wasn’t looking to make it equal. He was aiming for quite the opposite. When was the last time someone took less so you could have more? I spoke to Ethan this morning, asked him what he thought. It was Christmas in October around here - there was actual jumping for joy. “I never thought I’d have a Rivendell!” Humbled, I agreed to the deal. Our Benefactor took care of everything. He made the call, placed the order, sent me an email with an order confirmation, and now there’s a little silver mini-Clem, pony-like and lovely, with a boy’s name on it, sent from a Benefactor he can never repay. When was the last time you were generous to someone who would never repay you? Today, inexplicably, we were on the receiving end of a grand gesture. I don’t know that our Benefactor can truly know the depths at which we feel this. I will tell this story, keep his secret, and he will read about it. There will be photos of Peterson boys in coming years on a silver, pony-like Clem. It doesn’t seem enough. Is it going to end with you? This is the question I’m asking myself now. When someone extends generosity to you, it frees you up to do the same. Not to square up or make it even, as my pride would have it, but because I’ve been the recipient of something good that is meant to be shared. In two weeks’ time a baby will be born and she will be my niece and her heart will have a large hole and she will have Down Syndrome. I have a mother-in-law, young and afflicted with an uncommon dementia that causes her to have delusions and paranoia against us, her close family. So I can see some opportunities on my horizon, to give until it pinches. I will look for more of them in the grocery store or on the bike path or on this very List as our Benefactor did. And friends, if you follow his example, I’d love to know about it - would you report back here? Photos will be forthcoming. Look for the Clem-pony and a jubilant boy! Yours, Leah -- You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups "RBW Owners Bunch" group. To unsubscribe from this group and stop receiving emails from it, send an email to rbw-owners-bunch+unsubscr...@googlegroups.com. To post to this group, send email to rbw-owners-bunch@googlegroups.com. 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