It isn’t easy to get kosher meat in Bellingham, Washington. Since we’ve moved here, I’ve had to make two trips a year into Seattle, several hours and a lot of traffic away, to make certain we have kosher chicken for Passover and the High Holy Days.

Then, between my husband’s surgery and mine, there just wasn’t time to get that far south, and now we were approaching the High Holy Days without any chance of making the trip. I’d already decided we would have to do the ten days with fish and vegetables, and the few packages of kosher soup I had left. I knew I could do it without too much trouble, but it wouldn’t make Keith happy because he’s a world-class carnivore. That long a time without chicken was asking an awful lot, especially since he did all the cooking.

Then, shortly before the holidays, I got a call from someone in the congregation. “I have to take my son into Seattle for a day,” Barbara said, “and I’m going to be stopping at one of the markets that carries kosher stuff. Do you need anything?” I asked if it wouldn’t be an imposition, and she kept telling me she’d be happy to do it. She was able to get everything on our list.

As I tried to thank her, she reminded me that two years before, when she had been out of the country prior to Passover, I’d shopped for her. I’d completely forgotten about it.

It was no big deal to me to give; it was certainly a big deal to receive.

God, please help me always to give without expectation of return and remind me to be grateful beyond measure when someone does the same for me.