Last year, I got a job playing the organ at my parish. But before I actually got the job, I had to practice and get better at it. During Lent, my parish would offer extra Confession times, so I’d go into the church on Monday nights and practice. In the late winter, our local Savers was having a sale and I needed jeans, so my mom took me up to Savers. As my mom was checking out, I looked around the store and I thought I saw one of the homeless men who went to our parish, Eddie, or, as we kids called him, “Mr. Eddie”. As we were putting our cart back and walking out the door, Mr. Eddie approached us. Turns out it had been him. We greeted each other, and he looked at me and said most sincerely “I really love hearing you play, Emma.” I had nearly forgotten that he was often in the warm church on Mondays, sitting in the pew farthest back to the left. He asked if I had an organ to practice on at home, and I told him I didn’t. To my great surprise, he told Mom and me about a friend who had an old organ, like one you would see in a music store, that he could no longer use and then explained how he'd love to give it to me and could even get it to our house. It was such a kind, genuine gesture that I was dumbstruck. Unfortunately, we didn’t really have a place to put an organ in our house.
“I’m so sorry, Eddie,” my mom said, “but we just don’t have the space for it in our house.”
“Gosh, it would be so nice to have, Mr. Eddie,” I said, “but Mom’s right. I just have no idea where I would put it. But thank you so, so much for thinking of me though. That was so very sweet of you.”
Mr. Eddie’s blue eyes twinkled as he said "Ah, that's ok." And we parted ways. Out of his nothing, he wanted to give me such an extraordinary gift. Even though I couldn't accept it, the genuine thought that was behind the gift will never leave me.