This is Shlomo Ron. When Hamas terrorists invaded his home in Kibbutz Nahal Oz, this 85-year-old frail man had a plan. He left his wife, daughters and grandson in the shelter, and went to sit in his living room, waiting for his death. He figured that when terrorists break in they will see him, execute the lonely old man, and move on. He was right. He’s a hero who sacrificed himself for the people he loves. May be [sic] rest in peace.

Jeff Henderson, in his book Know What You’re For, tells a story of when he received such a gift; a surprise.

He was driving around town with a billionaire. He had never driven around a billionaire before. He found himself driving slower, more cautiously. Hands at ten and two. Eyes on the road.

His passenger was Truett Cathy, founder of Chick-fil-A, the inventor of the famed chicken sandwich, and at that time, Henderson’s boss’ boss. He was driving Mr. Cathy to a speaking engagement in a white Ford with cow spots on it. As others passed the only cow-spotted car driving down the road, they gave them a wave or a smile.

The gift — the surprise — was the conversation he and Mr. Cathay enjoyed. Henderson was surprised that Mr. Cathy conversed with him at all, much less having many questions to ask him.

Once Cathy started talking, Henderson expected he would discuss sales or chicken. But instead he took a great interest in Henderson. He asked about his wife, his children, his parents. Then, they discussed parenting and how to be great husbands. They didn't talk about sales goals or chicken sandwiches. Instead, they talked about things of permanence. 

Henderson drove slower, wanting to relish the moment.

These are moments — gifts — we may not recognize at the time. Moments that take their time. They quietly make their way through the crowded thoughts, experiences, and memories in our brain, and before we know it, they’re standing beside us.

At some point, we turn and recognize how these moments became a memory and how it has been shaping us the whole time.

The car ride and conversation with Truett Cathy was one such moment for Jeff Henderson. A seed was planted as Henderson realized Truett Cathy was "for" him. He was more interested in what he could do for Henderson than what Henderson could do for him.

Marcel Marceau, the famed French entertainer of the early 20th century, was best known for his pantomime, bringing his silent character, Bip the Clown, to stages around the world for over 6 decades. He referred to his miming as “the art of silence.”

Few, however, know him for his heroism during the Nazi occupation of France. 

Recruited to help the French Resistance by his cousin, Georges Loinger, he became part of the ultra-secret unit called the Oeuvre de Secours aux Enfants (Children's Relief Work), a Jewish relief group that smuggled Jewish children from occupied France to neutral countries. Their mission was to evacuate Jewish children who had been hiding in a French orphanage and get them to the Swiss border.

“But traveling with large groups of children was anything but easy. Marceau had a secret weapon: His training as a mime,” reports History.lcom. 

“The kids loved Marcel and felt safe with him,” his cousin, Loinger reminesced to the Jewish Telegraph Agency. “He had already begun doing performances in the orphanage …  The kids had to appear like they were simply going on vacation to a home near the Swiss border, and Marcel really put them at ease.” … 

"He mimed “to keep children quiet as they were escaping,” remembered another. 

At times, he posed as a Boy Scout leader taking groups of boys on nature outings (which just happened to find them hiking near the Swiss border!). On one occasion, he was confronted by German troops, at which time he tapped into his acting talents, pretended to be a French Army commander, and demanded that the German troops surrender to him immediately. And they did! All 30 of them!

In all, Marceau rescued over 70 children, while his cousin Loinger rescued more than 350.

He could not, however, save his own father, who was executed while imprisoned at Auschwitz.