Dad owned the tearoom near the top of Blackburn Road next to the Dutch Reformed Church up the road from Park Hill Soccer Club.
You may or not have known him by name but you may have been a woman in need of milk for her baby. He would have given it to you “under the counter” as if defying the boss which, of course, was himself. When you tried to pay he may have whispered “take the milk, my dear. No baby should go without food. Keep your money for something else the baby needs.”
Or, you may have wandered into the shop and said you had no place to stay for a while and he may have said “we have plenty of room here” and given you a bed for a week, a month, even longer.
Perhaps you knew him because you faced addiction to alcohol and he was your Alcoholics Anonymous sponsor and he said “just for today” to you and told you he’d decided he’d no longer drink “just for today” until his pledge spanned decades of sobriety.
Did you know my dad?
You may not have known him by name but perhaps you went to his tearoom where he served bread, milk, kindness and good humor and wrapped the goods with the feeling that you were known, you belonged, you were important.
As well-intentioned as we may be in desiring to avoid conflict and “keep the peace,” we create more problems we must face later by running or playing hide and seek. Then, when we do face matters, we’re not the people we once were.
Avoidance is a quick-change artist! It changes us in ways we are likely to regret.
We cannot solve or improve what we will not face. Denial gets us no place worthy of the journey or the unintended, unwanted destination. Until we gather the courage to look difficult situations directly in the eye and expedite what is necessary to face the difficulties, conflicts will stay as they are and they’re likely to deteriorate.
What we avoid shapes us in ways we may never notice. We modify our habits in order to sustain our denial and avoidance. We change our friendships in order to sustain our patterns. We go out of our way to keep the peace but the new path is one to further avoidance. Our defensive habits defend us in unhealthy and unhelpful ways and make us into people we’d rather not be.
Avoidance of necessary battles creates unintended distance from others — even those we truly love.
There is no worthwhile substitute for early honest approaches to family or business conflicts.
Avoidance makes the heart grow harder.
Ours.
I enjoyed this side-walk art…… 49th and Penn in Meridian Kessler, Indianapolis
I shall strive to speak and teach as one who has indeed much to learn.
In every classroom we are all learners.
I shall strive to listen to people in the class (and out of it) as if I were listening to the mountains.
Mountains reveal their real beauty to the dedicated observer, beauty that’s easily missed by those who offer casual hurried glances or who are themselves caught up in how they look or are dressed or what the student may think of them.
Can there be a greater privilege than jetting to Penang to teach Family Systems?
I saw Santa at the Children’s Museum with a feather of a child pleading her case. They were locked in discussion, a confessional of sorts, as she entered into detail of her every Christmas wish. Hands, eyes, and all of her face enticed Santa closer lest he miss a detail living so clearly in her head.
“Oh, you want, oh, I see it. Why yes, of course. Perfectly,” Santa said, his voice tapering off into her ear, “I will see what I can do about that.”
Then she nestled into his side, her shoulders comfortably enveloped by his plush red suit as if to declare her mission accomplished. He was a perfect depiction of everything I imagined him to be and the sight easily immersed me in the voices and music of my own Christmases past.
Santa came all year round to our home. I’d look through the window in April or mid-August and Santa would be strolling up the driveway on his return from visits to every home on the street. He’d be wearing dad’s shoes and one of his ties underneath the tatty red coat, but I knew better than to expose his identity. I wanted to believe in Santa and he in turn needed me to believe. Such faith had rewards. I knew better than to dash my own hopes. I wasn’t ready to lose my trust in Santa for anyone and certainly not by my own hand.
He couldn’t resist visits to the whole neighborhood and would drop in from time to time and inspire children toward good behavior, perfect obedience at school, and remind them to count their blessings one by one. At every appearance in our home we’d sing “The Little Boy that Santa Clause Forgot” and we’d all have to cry. He insisted on it.
The lines “he didn’t have a daddy” and “went home to play with last year’s broken toys” really got us going.
It was clear he sang to all the children of the world who’d had to skip childhood and who had known poverty; children who’s fathers had gone to war or whose fathers or mothers had fled their families.
Donning the suit, surprising the children, was our Santa’s way of making the world right.
His visits created intrigue in the neighborhood, and to every child he repeated the promise that this Christmas, no child on this street would be forgotten. As far as I could tell none ever was.
The last Christmas we had together was in August of 1994. We were riding in a car and in the curves of Bluff Road when spontaneously he began to sing, “Christmas comes but once a year.”
The car became a holy place as I heard once more of the boy who “wrote a note to Santa for some soldiers and a drum and it broke his little heart to find Santa hadn’t come.”
The tears we both shed required no encouragement for we both somehow knew this would be the last time he’d sing this nostalgic hymn.
Now this old song is top of my list of Christmas songs.
The melody emerges randomly in my awareness, most particularly when faced with children who are in need. I have had to silence it at all times of the year.
It was the little girl’s confidence, Santa’s grace, and the loving parents looking from the side that caught my attention last week. She touched his flowing beard and told him her every Christmas dream and I found myself listing my own requests with childlike zeal.
It gave me renewed hope that you and I, the real Santas of the world, could deliver a more hopeful tomorrow for “those little girls and boys that Santa Claus forgot.”
(First published, December 9, 2000, Indianapolis Star) ———— Our home this evening….
Until then, if you so choose, I’ll listen as you tell me as much or as little as you want about your losses.
It makes no difference to me how much time has passed since your loss, your let-down, your crises. I know time passed makes little or no difference to your enduring pain even if you’re able at times to mask it.
So, bring it on.
I’m listening. I’m reading.
I will be as present for you as is humanly possible. I’ll listen to every word you say and listen for those you don’t say. I’ll read every sentence you’ve written and ask you to say more if there’s any hint of necessity to read between the lines. I’ll study what you present as though I’m preparing for an examination.
When we talk or as you write please note I’d welcome a thorough tour of the love you enjoyed, the way it was when it
was at its very best. If it’s a spouse, friend, job at the crux of the loss you’ve endured, please, tell me too, about the good times. This will allow me to more fully appreciate what you’ve suffered.
I know it’s tough to read (and it’s not easy to write, either) but if you lost a baby, a child (at any age), I want you to know I think I’m brave enough to hear you out.
If it scares me, I’ll tell you. If it scares you, let me know, and we can leave it be, or…..whatever you decide.
The invitation stands.
WhatsApp, email, FaceTime…..if we’re in the same area, we can meet face-to-face, once, twice or more.
Let the people whom you love know it. This means directly telling them in as many creative ways as you are able to devise, but especially, if possible, with words and words that are said out loud and face-to-face. Leave glaring evidence of your love so there is no mistaking it even if it has already been your habit for years.
Cards, letters, cash – let it flow.
Wherever you live, enjoy it, no, more than that, celebrate it. Be aware that wherever you live, there are people – perhaps billions of people – spread across the world who think the grass is greener exactly where you live. They aspire to be where you already are. Make things more beautiful than they already are by adding your joy to the beauty.
Water your proverbial greener grass with joy.
You, yes you, have the power to make someone’s day. I know you do because if it is true for me then it is also true for you. We all possess the power of expressing thanks, of noticing talent and acknowledging it, of recognizing beauty and love and owning up to how it has enriched our lives. The fabulous thing about going out of your way to make someone’s day is that it will inevitably make yours, too.
The kickbacks are terrific.
———— United brought me home — not a single guitar was ruined on the journey……! (Obscure joke indeed…… if you get it let me know). Next stop, Bujumbura…..
Considering others, delivering acts of kindness, will likely be of much benefit to people on the receiving end.
But, as a direct result of acts of consideration and kindness, possibilities for more such acts will kick into gear.
How could I use my power, as limited as it may be, to open opportunities for people?
I’m in no particular hurry and so I can move to the end of the line, or at least suggest those who are rushed for time go ahead of me.
I have more than I ever need or use so I will find creative ways to share and spread the favor that’s been mine.
This kind of thinking is good for our minds, hearts, wills, souls, spirits, as elusive as these “places” are that work together within us and define and shape who we are.
Looking for ways to consider others puts our selfishness and entitlement (at least temporarily) on hold while such thinking engages self awareness and service.
It’s healthy thinking.
It’s win-win thinking that even while we are thinking the thinking it realigns our attitudes and restores hope.
Considering others broadens, sharpens personal vision, does its part in renewing the mind. This can only have positive results, except for committed cynics, of whom, sadly, there are many.
The question is answered if I embrace the wealthy and look down on people of limited means.
If I am ignored by a waiter in a restaurant and threaten to withhold a tip or “go to the top” I have decided who I want to be.
If snubbed and I retaliate, my actions answer the question.
If I return evil for evil I have decided.
I am constantly revealing who I want to be.
Who I am is the product of thousands-upon-thousands of choices, and more, compounding, forming into habits that build platforms for actions and shape the lenses through which I see and respond to the world.
I will always be who I have always been when I am unthinking, reactive, and act out of entrenched stereotypes.
Until I am available for something different, acknowledge there may exist new and more gracious ways for me to be, I will be who I have always been.
The question, “what kind of person do I want to be?”, demands I take responsibility for myself and my behavior. It’s not the waiter, the line at the bank, the government, a dysfunctional family or unhappy childhood, or whomever a person may choose to blame.
This most helpful and life-changing question is answered in my every-day routines, my attitudes, and interactions.
May your heart be jam-packed with great expectations and sufficiently resilient to embrace those unfamiliar with indiscriminate human warmth.
Love is tough for those for whom it is foreign.
May you experience the goodness of which you are capable and possess the courage to allow its full way with you.
Take yourself by surprise.
May you have childlike eyes and be filled with joy and wonder as you see the familiar in new and childlike ways.
May your curiosity be contagious.
May your thoughts dwell on the goodness around you and your focus on designing your fulfilling and adventurous future.
May your enthusiasm impart strength to others.
May your words be soft, sweet, encouraging, while you remain unafraid to speak your mind with conviction.
May your words comfort and provoke all who hear you.
May your hands bring comfort, kindness, relief to those, who, for reasons of historic political atrocities or recent political divides, may least expect it from you.
May your love continually and persistently obliterate stereotypes and prejudices.
May your most treasured friendships deepen, your broken friendships find healing, and all malice, contempt and indifference from you, and for you, cease.
May you embrace and love your friends, former friends, enemies and detractors.
Captured with permission – a t-shirt in Curitiba, Brazil
Definitions vary, but people usually want to be emotionally healthy, or moving in that direction.
How about some tangible goals displaying emotional wellness?
The emotionally well person is a self-starter who is inner-driven and internally-steered. She uses pre-established principles and boundaries to make decisions and is not usually externally steered by family, friends or fads.
The healthy person is no blind follower and nor is he “flying by the seat of his pants.” Even at his most spontaneous, he is living his pre-established principles and goals.
She loves her family but acts as a separate person when necessary and, when necessary, she is able to make unpopular decisions.
He sometimes chooses to spend time alone, time to think, plan, read, write and pray.
He is quick to forgive almost everything but learns to modify or manage trust. He understands that forgiving doesn’t necessarily mean forgetting although there are times and circumstances when it does.
Emotionally well people are able to “hold onto themselves” under pressure and do not lash out or blame others when things go awry.
Emotionally well people are comfortable with their status in life and thus able to impart calmness and comfort to those who appear to be on a constant treadmill in pursuit of wealth, success, or recognition.
“Living from within” can appear as arrogance to those who are tossed and turned by trends and fashions.
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