Some have more Others have less So let us give to them What we can spare To help those who need it We all are trying to manage All only have one life here Let’s be kind and share our wealth For if we do, the years we live here We can make the world that much more beautiful

Have faith,hope,and charity Care for others that you see Before yourself is the way To serve our Lord everyday

Giving will make your heart full Like a lamb wearing its wool Wandering for its shepherd For protection with his herd

Charity is showing love That only comes from above Helping others in sorrow Giving or let them borrow

Being there just to listen Hugging when their eyes glisten Giving hope to everyone In Jesus Christ’s name the Son

Ashley Esther Elizabeth Bryant was the wealthiest woman on that side of the city, the side where anything less than twelve bedrooms, eight bathrooms, a 360 degree veranda encircling the walls, a swimming pool, and indoor-outdoor retractable roofed tennis court would be considered living in poverty. Her neck and her fingers and her ears held the weight of those round or hanging gold and silver chains. They were made even heavier by those cut diamonds in facets of blinding shine. She bore that burden without smile or grimace, the Botox had left her serene. Her hair coifed and with a golden shine, framed her perfectly cut face in a blond halo. Maybe hundreds of years ago, she might have been canonized as a saint or at least been given the name: Your Ladyship. And in this modern century she tried to live that way. She believed she lived the way she did and had all the money to live like in paradise because she had always done the right things. Her pastor on the television screen had said, “If you’re living in God’s will the money will come to you—-just don’t forget to give back…” She felt she gave back more than she should, on those long nights with her wrinkly husband in bed.

But she forgot to listen to the sermon to its end. She pressed the remote control and rose from her breakfast in bed, spilling a bit of tea from the silver server set. She missed the number that appeared at the bottom of the screen to send the charity to The God’s Saving Ministry. But she wanted to stay within the loving will of God, so she did something. She gathered her old clothes—-removed the labels of GUCCI, Vuitton, Lauren and those Burberry plaids—-so she could remain humble and not fall into pride. She rang for the chauffeur to take her to where poor people might be. He placed his cap on his head and shook it once or twice. He drove to the edge of the city’s central park.

“Here we are ma’am.” Very matter-of-factedly.

“Here?”

He saw in his rear view mirror, her injected puff-lips grow a half-inch larger in disdain.

He sighed, “Yes, here.”

She took a deep breath. It wasn’t going to be easy to do God’s will.

He walked to her side of the limousine and opened the door. He helped her out to her first step of trepidation. She hoped her high heels would hold her steady on their spikes. And then they came for her charity, she was surrounded by odors she had never smelled before. She wondered why these people didn’t bathe. She wondered if this is how her Lord and Savior had felt when surrounded by those crowds in Galilee. She gave and gave that day, without touching a hand. She left that to the chauffeur, he knew he’d need to wash his black leather gloves after that swarm. When everything was gone, he opened the door for her to the back into the car. She got in and felt an exhausted holiness fill her soul. She wished she could have remembered his name to thank him personally. Instead she said ‘thank you’ and gave him a compliment ‘well done’ as she pressed the button to raise the window separating them. He drove her home and quit the next day. At the end of his final notice was signed: Cito Wheeler.

“So that’s what it was,” Ashley Esther Elizabeth mumbled, “Well, God bless him wherever he may drive.”

From all of that, something happened to her heart. It had never been small like the Grinch’s, but it had never been very warm either. Now it was burning hot. She found she liked to give and give and give. She began to write checks and take them to shelters in every corner on the other side of the city. She gave away some cars to the meals-on-wheels, so those lunches showed up in a red Ferrari or polished black Porsche. She gave and she gave. it became a deep rage within her. It had become a competition. She read in the paper or online and saw her picture, Ashley Esther Elizabeth Bryant: Benefactor, Saint to the Poor. Oh, how she loved it. People finally took notice of her, without having to visit Chez You Beauty Salon or have another cut and tuck from Doctor Irvine.

The money she earned by loving her husband (in ways she never wanted to discuss) and his billions and billions would never run dry. Her charity grew and grew. It chocked her heart. Her giving had become a need. Her giving had become an ugly, disfigured greed.

Grey wisps of hair cross his head and meet under the brim of firm material and assurance. He has sprouted, a lonesome poppy in the blusters of transitory time from Fall to Winter, outside a new realm of conflict.

He nods to them with a glistening smile of decaying teeth, leaving reddened gums bleeding a quaint charity. Charity remains a scarce resource on the battlefield, whilst men and women and children scramble for goods in aisles - as if their poise behind him, in waiting, is memories of isles and isles and isles of turmoil in an old realm of conflict.

The top hat remains empty for a while as communities stumble past, but nods and grins without upturned chins are beacons for a new leaf among the fallen. Five coins are the spoils of war but spoilt not is the top hat and it’s firm and soft brim.

There may come a moment where The helper becomes the helped, For nobody can choose The cards they have been dealt.

When you have feet to walk the earth You must explore Be full of mirth

When you have ears to hear the sounds Listen, listen The noise will astound

When you have hands to write all day Pour you feelings Write your way

When you have a mouth to talk all you want Chit and chatter But never taunt

When you have a heart for compassion Be kind, give Looked upon with love and passion

When you have money more than you need Give to charity Don’t have greed

The sun was now fully behind the mountains, only the edges glowed with the remaining daylight. The endless trees started to take on a dark presence, a warning. Just moments ago, the golden hour illuminating half of their trunks and shimmering on the frosty pavement made M feel like she might actually be dreaming. She felt weak from the amount of fearful adrenaline that had been coursing through her body for hours, and to see her last bit of precious warmth diminish behind the horizon, a new panic set in.

The immense weight of how alone she was was palpable. This kind of silence was wholly different from what she had experienced before. She was about to be swallowed in complete darkness.

Thoughts of wondering if she should have escaped or not swam through her head. Would her fate have been better as a slave than to freeze to death out here tonight? No. It gave her a small amount of peace to know that she had chosen correctly. She knew what happened in those camps. She would rather nature take her life instead.

What seemed like ages passed, M just kept putting one numb foot in front of the other. She focused on watching her feet follow the dim line of paint on the highway which put her into a trance. She didn’t notice the headlights far ahead in the distance. She thought she heard a far away hum of an engine but was certain it was her brain playing tricks. But it got louder. M snapped out of it and looked up to see a car was headed her direction. It was so dark that they wouldn’t even see her unless she was right in front of them when they passed her. She had no choice but to stand in the road and hoped they would see her in time and not run her over. She stood in the opposite lane and put her hands over her head waving wildly. Her heart leapt when the car’s brights turned on and slowed down as it approached. She prayed that they were good people. Please be a woman, she thought. The window rolled down to reveal the faces of a man and a woman illuminated dimly by the dashboard. They looked shocked to see anyone out in this vast wilderness. “Are you ok?” The woman asked. M shook her head no but couldn’t make any words come out. The woman opened her door and rushed to M with a blanket. She wrapped M up and rubbed her shoulders. “Come on, dear, get in the car and get warm.”

Without hesitation M got in the backseat, hoping with all of her heart that charity wasn’t completely dead in these godforsaken times.

1845

I cautiously lay the blood red wreath on the grave, as burning hot tears escape my now dead and cold eyes. Dad how could you leave me? I think silently as John lays another newly made wreath on my fathers grave, before hugging me softly. Yet I’m not crying anymore, for I know What I must do, what Dad would want me to do. So I stride away, my head pointed high, as I must be brave, for myself, for my family, and for him.

2020~ I close the book gently. Great, Great, Great Grandmothers Journal seems to stare back at me, it’s eyes harshly judging. For I know what I must do, Julia never did get to reach her goal, she was brutally murdered before she had the chance, so now it’s my job. 56 million pounds just lies lifeless in my camping bag, a 56 million pounds that now has a crucial chance to do something good for the people out there in this world. I take in a huge gasp of air before quickly snapping on my neon green high heels on my feet. See Julia’s mission was a good one, she wanted to donate all that she had for a charity, the charity that helped her father. George Burke had been dyslexic since childhood and the brotherhood of the poor had graciously helped him. Therefore, Julia had seen it has her life’s legacy to help the magical charity grow, and now it was mine.

Dixie wouldn’t be happy, nor would Brenny, they wished to greedily keep this money for themselves, but now I can’t care less. Before striding out of the old mansion, I stare one more at the crooked journal and somehow it’s eyes now seem less harsh and cold, but I see somewhere a hint of light, through the darkness of this one forgotten day........

All for you, I give my blood and money, All for you, I give my time and heart, There is charity in love so romantic and unrequited, All for you, There is poverty in the rational mind
so try not to think so much

Every morning, when my sister and I walked to school, we used to walk past an old blind man.

It wasn’t hard to find him, he always sat in the same place, asking for a coin for his dog who lay beside him. Sometimes I wondered if he ever moved since despite rain or snow he always seemed to be there, by the bus stop with his shivering dog.

“Why doesn’t he go home?” I asked is my sister once.

“He probably doesn’t have one,” she answered solemnly. “He wouldn’t sit out here by choice.”

We walked past him without a sound and without fail, my sister dropped a coin in his cup. I always walked on the road side because I was scared of the homeless man. He had a scarred face and hunched over with sad but small smile and even though he was blind he would always look me straight in the eye and wink at me.

The coin clunked loudly in his cup.

“God bless you,” he exclaimed smiling. He said it every time and my sister would always smile back.

Then one day my sister died and I had to walk to school alone. I scooted past the homeless man, trying not to catch his eye. Suddenly I paused, unwillingly and looked at him. He smiled at me and winked. In that moment I thought of my sister and what she would do. It felt like I was letting her down ignoring the man that she found so much happiness and trust in helping. She would want me to do something for him, at least remember him because no one else would. “Where’s your sister?” He asked. “Erm she won’t be coming here anymore,” I replied slowly. “That’s a shame, I liked her.” “So did I.” I start walking slowly away from him, hoping he won’t notice. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he called after me. “Huh?” “I’m sorry she died.” “How did you know?” “The best part of my day was always when you and your sister came by. She was the only one that dropped a coin in my cup but she was the only one that genuinely smiled at me. She was thoughtful and kind, that’s rare now.” Suddenly he didn’t seem scary at all in fact I was more intrigued by him as a person. What he had done before he came here and why he had a dog and if he had family... “I miss her a lot too,” I said. “Well best be on your way to school then, you don’t want to end up like me,” he laughed. I turned before remembering something. I shut my eyes and listened for the soft clunk against the cup. “God bless you,” I said it before he could. I could tell I took him by surprise. “Thank you,” he said slowly and quietly. But it was his smile that spoke the thousand of words that he could not.