I visited this week with an older woman.

She is bright, articulate, playful, insightful...and somewhat sad. She is sad because she has lived her whole life giving to others. She has spent much of her adult years serving with Hospice -- the group that helps people die with dignity. Sitting with her I sensed through her depth of grace that she would be a wonderful companion with whom to make that last, difficult journey.

She talked about the sanctity of being with someone who was dying. She talked about the bond formed in that most vulnerable of relationships where, in the face of death, social pretension means absolutely nothing -- all that is wanted or needed or valued is time with someone who cares.

"Kevin," she said. "I want to thank you for the wonderful Lay Eucharistic Ministry at St. David's Church. I tire too quickly to come to church. Everyone who has come to my home to bring me communion is always so wonderful."

(I, of course, take no credit. This ministry predates my coming. But I received her appreciation on behalf of the Pastoral Care Team.)

"I'm sad," she said. "Because I have always been a giver. But now I'm so tired. I don't know what to do. Can you please help me find something to do, so that I can find a place to continue to give?"

On Sunday evening the conversation was with a teenage girl, someone just beginning life's adventure. Yesterday I was with a woman advancing to the end of life. She is anticipating life's next adventure in the great and wonderful mystery of eternity.

My job privileges me to have these kinds of conversations. Call it a "perk."

My daughter Claire turns thirteen today.

I will not be there when she is frail and tired. But, on her thirteenth birthday I have a prayer. My prayer is that someday, my little girl will bless a man still in the most vital years of his life, with an unintended personal demonstration of the eternal fruitfulness grace.

"It is more blessed to give than to receive," Jesus said.

After a lifetime of faithful giving, this dear, dear woman continues to give in ways she cannot fully understand. And the gifts that she has given through her life -- big and small -- will continue to multiply through generations.

And for her? Once she makes that last, difficult journey, in Eternity she will celebrate the gifts she has given all her life -- big and small -- and she will know what Jesus really meant when he said, "It is more blessed to give than to receive."

And she will never know sadness again.