Category: Simple Observations and Musings

“But listen to me. For one moment quit being sad. Hear blessing dropping their blossoms around you.”—Rumi

“There are always flowers for those who want to see them.”—Henri Matisse

My Dad, Step-mom, Pam, and I were standing on the sidewalk outside of a quaint, downtown artisan shopping area of Huntington, WV, known as Heritage Station, a former B & O train station. It was a grey, chilly day, and we had just enjoyed breakfast in a charming coffee shop/diner. We were in the midst of saying our goodbyes when an unknown, well-dressed, young lady approached us rather quickly with her arms full of parcels.

“Would you watch these for me, please, while I run inside?”

Without hesitation, we agreed, and she quickly placed down two boxes of beautifully arranged roses, a bottle of wine, and two glasses. She rapidly walked away, the irony of her rhythmic clickety-clack shoes were not lost me as we stood near an old train engine staring at the stunning bouquets in front of us.

Pam and I immediately began smelling and gently touching the fragrant petals. We were careful not to disturb the actual arrangements, as it was clear these flowers were for a special occasion.

The nameless female remained away for several minutes while the three of us continued to admire the brilliant garnet and snowy-white roses, mixed with an unknown multi-petaled crimson flower, and surrounded by varying shades of greenery. The vividness of these flowers was such a stark contrast to the overcast day surrounding us. I felt the gnawing tickle within the recesses of my brain sensing there was a lesson here for me to unearth; but it would take months for my heart to understand the divinely inspired message.

When my daughter was quite young, she would wake up fully charged and ready to go. Every day was an adventure for which she eagerly embraced. Even before eating breakfast and getting dressed, she would run about the house in her pajamas on those pint-sized legs full of energy, brimming with a perpetual smile, incessant talk, and an easy to find giggle. As the day progressed, it didn’t matter how neatly she was dressed, or how tidily I fixed her hair, by day’s end, her clothes were rumpled and stained while her hair was tousled and wildly flowing. This was because she whole-heartedly threw herself into engagement with any activity or person that came her way. It didn’t matter if was rainy, sunny, snowy, cloudy, spring, or fall—she loved life.   And while, I rarely got the stains out of her clothes, I savored her enthusiastic, radiant energy even if it did wear me out at times. I often wished I could bottle up her spirit and inject it into others, including myself, during moments of difficulty.

My daughter was not old enough to have created stories in her mind. You know, the on-going loop that often plays in our heads. Stories such as, “I’m such a klutz;’ “I never do anything right;’ “I’m not good enough;” “They don’t like me;” “Today is a bad day;” “I have so much to do;” “I’m poor, rich, fat, skinny, ugly, pretty . . ..” The story titles are endless. And, if you’re like me, the “story” frequently plays like a broken record in the mind repeating the same line over and over.

Recently, I encountered another gorgeous array of roses and multi-petaled flowers, only this time it was in the midst of a setting in which the majority of people were teary-eyed and sad. Suddenly, it hit me. We are all meant to be roses for one another in the garden of life.

We were divinely created by the one true Gardner to bud, bloom, and blossom while our feet are planted on this earthen soil. Therefore, from day to day and from situation to situation, we are often called upon to roll up our proverbial sleeves and get a little dirty, to engage with others, to offer a smile (or even a giggle) to another being, or to remain open to the possibilities, shifts, and changes in the day in a manner similar to which my daughter embraced life when she was a toddler.

Like the roses in the bouquets; we are individually layered with petals of beauty—think of them as gifts or talents. From the person who adds order to a house, office, or building by cleaning it, to the stylist who cuts and/or colors hair; from the garbage collector that keeps our surroundings clean; to the office administrator who contributes a seamlessly streamlined sense of organization—we are all created to add color and wonder to this world. Perhaps, then, we might want to consider acknowledging and honoring our Supreme gardener with words of thanksgiving and appreciation on a regular basis.

As I type these words, I am writing to myself as much as I am you, Dear Reader, because I, too, get wrapped up in my own head of narration. Frequently, I read suggestions regarding the practice of keeping a gratitude journal—which is an excellent and positive practice—as a way to refocus the lens of the mind. In fact, I have tried to keep one on several occasions, but have never fully made it a habit. Therefore, I am challenging myself, and you too, with the following notions.

1. Recognize when you have drifted off into story-land. Then, gently remind yourself that just as the gray clouds covered the sunshine on that autumn day with Dad and Pam, it doesn’t mean the sun wasn’t present.
2. Reframe the story. “Yes, I am often klutzy, but look at all the wonderful movements my body is capable of doing;” or, “Yes, this day seems challenging, but I can take it one step at a time.”
3. Recognize and state in that moment of your story-loop at least one event, thing, or person for which you are grateful, such as “I am grateful for my morning coffee.” “I am thankful for my car that transported me safely to work.” “I appreciate the unexpected and thoughtful text I received from a friend this morning.”

There is a saying about taking time to smell the roses that is well-worth remembering. So often, however, we focus solely on the daily thorns and irritations of life, rather than notice all numerous positives that also occurred. Although mindfully attempting to interrupt our monkey-minds of stories a few times per day with moments of gratitude may not eliminate life’s thorns; it might, however, offer a bit more perspective, allowing us to navigate those sharp, negative events with a little more grace and ease, and serve as a reminder that life is as short as the rose bud. And, in the end, when we look at roses, it is the bright blooms we first notice and appreciate, not the thorns.

“Dear one, I know that you are suffering, that is why I am here for you.”—Thich Nhat Hanh, True Love

“Jesus wept.”—John 11:35

As a kid, I took great pride in my Bible quiz knowledge. One of the various bits of trivia for which I knew the correct response was, “What is the shortest verse in the Bible?” Answer: “Jesus wept.” Yet, I never pondered its real meaning as youngster.

When my daughter, Madelyn, was quite young, she loved romping on the bed in the bedroom that belonged to my husband, John, and me near her bedtime. She giggled and squealed as her flaxen hair was tousled about as if it were party streamers while she bounced energetically on her knees, expending her last bits of energy.

One full-moon evening, Madelyn made her usual mad-dash scramble up the traditional hope chest at the foot of our bed and over the ornately carved foot-post at the end of our bed when I heard her cry. I had been walking behind her, but had paused to pick something off the floor, so I did not observe her ascent. Instead, I looked up in time to see she was falling, and her cry was different—not the typical sounds of short-lived pain from an unexpected stumble.

Hustling towards Maddie, I scooped her up, and began to hold her close, but immediately withdrew my arms because it made her cry more. I attempted to find a way to take her into my arms without creating more pain. No matter how I adjusted my hold, she continued to screeched. Something was very wrong, my mom gut told me.

Later, during the process of moving Maddie to the car, placing her into the child safety seat, and carrying her into the hospital emergency room, I found myself constantly fumbling and inadvertently instigating more of her pain. My heart hurt every time I did this.

I hurt on two levels. One, I simply could not take her pain away. Secondly, in my attempt to comfort and/or give her help, I often caused more pain. Each howl of pain was as if I had the wind punched out of my gut. Why couldn’t I make her better? No answers came as tears stung my own eyes.

The reality was I could not, per se, make her better. I was not in control. In fact, as much as I’d like to think I am, I am not in control of life—at least with regards to others’ and events. I can only control my thoughts, my actions, and my reactions to situations. And, if I am honest, my thoughts are often a mess of clouds because I feel deeply and struggle to rise above those feelings. Thus my actions and reactions often fall short, just as they were on the night we discovered Maddie had a broken arm.

The more I tried to hold her close to me and offer what I thought was comfort, the more I was compressing her right forearm where the break had occurred. It was only at the hospital, when she decided to sit on my lap facing away from me, so that she could lean her head back on my chest allowing her arms to dangle freely that her cries were allayed. Later, the staff would surround her tiny arm with a large air cast to protect it and allow her to sleep until we could see an orthopedic doctor the next day.

Maddie’s arm needed the space the air cast provided.   It allowed her body to rest, so her body could begin the process of repairing her broken bone.   Once the glittery, purple cast was later in place, she had a more firm armor of protection to allow the unseen God-created healing process to occur.

She wore that cast for weeks. It caused her skin to itch. Around the ends, where there was white fabric, it became gray and dingy—no matter how hard we tried to keep it clean. Additionally, a smell began to emanate from the cast after a few weeks. In spite of all of these perceived negatives, an unseen, miraculous work was ongoing underneath that faded purple cast.

Within six weeks, her arm was healed enough to remove the cast. The skin underneath was pale and withered looking. Furthermore, her arm was a weak from disuse, and the fine motor muscles of her hand had lost a bit of their dexterity. Time and space was still required for the final curative steps.

Through it all, John and I were with her. We helped when she really needed it, but we also encouraged her to do as much as she could independently including dressing, feeding, and playing. It was her right arm, and she was right handed, so it would have been a great disservice to do everything for her.

So it is with life. There are times when our loved ones are suffering, hurting, and experiencing unbearable pain. We want so badly to take their pain away from them that just as I did to my daughter. We push so hard to help, to say the right thing, or do the right thing that we unintentionally create more pain and/or suffering for our Dear one.

Often, our loved ones need our presence, but nothing more. They need to know they can lean against us, as Maddie did on me in the emergency room and allow their pain to just be. And just as I sat in that hospital waiting room with Maddie and John, putting our faith in unknown doctors, so too must we put our faith in the Divine. We may not understand why they have to suffer, but we can lean into our faith for support just as Maddie leaned against me, and I leaned against John on that long ago night.

Lastly, just as Maddie’s arm needed space and time to heal, so it is with suffering, pain, and illness. Neither John nor I could see all the extraordinary healing that was occurring in Maddie’s arm even when, from my outwardly senses, it appeared nothing was improving. We could not control the pace at which it was restored either. Yet, her body was mending at the precise God-created pace. And, just as John and I encouraged Maddie to do as much as she could independently to maintain some strength and deftness despite her injury, so too are we maintaining or building strength and resilience through suffering.

I cannot explain the “why” of human suffering. It still painfully wounds my heart and gut when I see other hurt. I often weep at the sight of seeing much pain especially when it comes to those near and dear to me. I want to take their pain away. I want to take control, but I cannot. And so, this is one of the many faith lessons on which I must continue to work and ponder; however, I am comforted with the knowledge that even Jesus wept upon seeing his loved ones hurting.

            “Each of one of us here today will at one time in our lives look upon a loved who is in need and ask the same question: We are willing to help, Lord, but what, if anything, is needed? For it is true we can seldom help those closest to us. Either we don’t know what part of ourselves to give or, more often than not, the part we have to give is not wanted. And so it is those we live with and should know who elude us. But we can still love them—we can love completely without complete understanding.”—Norman Maclean, A River Runs Through it and Other Stories

“Women think and talk like wires running in multiple directions,” explained a friend and co-worker, Holly, in a conversation one day after work. I am paraphrasing her words, but the gist of her point reminded me of one of my current wiry mental dilemmas: How to love, or, at the very least, be open to others with whom I either strongly disagree with their viewpoint or dislike their behavior choices?

It began as my ongoing mental struggle with how to best traverse through what I perceive as numerous negative global and national events/personalities. Then, my mind began its wiry twists of thought further wondering how to best navigate perceived negative situations with those whom I am close. This was not easy.

Perhaps I am the only person with this current predicament, but I suspect, based upon my public observations, there others silently pondering this. For example, during a recent college visit, my husband, John, and I took our daughter, Madelyn, and her friend, Eden, to one of the town’s locally owned restaurants for dinner. Behind us, we could hear a strident political conversation dominated by a vociferous, and seemingly pompous, man. His words were issued in a manner allowing all surrounding tables to overhear his opinion. Dinner companions of this unknown man seemed to be held quietly captive as he used his bully pulpit to literally and figuratively bang the dining table.

Typically, we can overlook a person like this, especially, when his high opinion of his own words was strengthened by excessive alcohol. Sadly, our ability to engage and converse with Maddie and Eden, however, became inhibited by this man’s rants. We could see diners at nearby tables who were also struggling to talk and often sent aggravated glances towards the vocal man. Meanwhile, at our own table, each time one of us would start a sentence, this man would spew more hyperbolic views. John had had enough; he prepared himself to turn and face this intruder. Thankfully, it became clear that this narrow-minded man and his dinner companions were preparing to leave, so John remained seated and held his tongue. Once departed, it still took time for the cloud of abhorrence to dissipate from this otherwise lovely dining establishment.

A week later, John and I sat in church listening to our pastor encourage parishioners to remember that all people are children of God, and it was our job to love everyone regardless of their situation, opinion, or other circumstances. Ouch!

I cognitively understand his directive, but from a gut level, I find this difficult. Sure, I can overlook the man in the restaurant and forgive him from a distance, but what about family, friends, co-workers, and other with whom there is close contact? How is it possible to unconditionally love everyone? The wires in my mind wrestled, wrangled, and tried to wrap around this predicament, but the concept seemed elusive.

As Divine Providence would have it, a podcast, to which I listened some time later, offered a bit of advice for my dilemma. While the speaker’s words were more directed at dealing with a negative work environment, my wiry-mind broke it down and connected it to my own questions regarding unconditional love for all. Here are my take-aways.

Observe: Hold your tongue and judgment. Operate from a point of compassion and attempt to withhold your personal view of “how things should be”. See the real reality, as it is, without interjecting judgment and/or condemnation.

Balance: Balance the words and/or actions not from the place in your head that is reminding you of, “how it should be,” but, instead, allow the mind (and body) time to digest and assimilate the perceived negative words or actions. This may mean remaining quiet and not immediately responding. Try to look at it from the other person’s point of view—even though it doesn’t agree with your personal view.

Take Action: This is the tricky part. After time for true reflection, is there something you can do about this? For example, with regard to a political policy in which you disagree, are there specific actions you can take to positively impact or change the situation? Can you actively and positively engage to make a difference? If so, follow through. If not, then rest your faith in our High Power.

However, if it’s a person close to your heart, ask if their belief or behavior is life threatening. If it is, is there something you can do? If so, take action. If it is not life threatening, then take no action. It is worth remembering that mistakes, falls, and blunders are often life’s best teacher. Thinking that we know what is better for others by trying to help, offer advice, or even control whittles away at a person’s autonomy and, possibly, self-esteem. Instead, we must trust in the other’s ability to find their own answers and their own path while loving and supporting their highest image of themselves—not ours.

Surrender: Finally, surrender to the moment, the situation, or the person—they are not for us to control. It is not for us to understand everything. Instead, we would be wise to embrace Hillesum’s words and work on peace within ourselves, allowing that inner peace to radiate out towards others and towards “our troubled world.”

Finally, if I am to be honest, these four actions seem lofty and easier said than done. Still, I believe, they are certainly worth not only pondering, but also worth attempting to put into practice. Life, after all, is a practice, and whenever we do point, three fingers remain pointing as us. Therefore, reflecting upon what our personal actions and words communicate might be of greater benefit.

“A generous person will prosper; whoever refreshes others will be refreshed.”—Proverbs 11:25

John, my husband and middle school Theology teacher, once had a discussion with a few of his classes regarding if there were more bad people or good people in the world. Most of his students felt there were more bad. I was stunned to hear this. However, I experienced three encounters of late that illustrated how easy it is to allow one bad apple to overshadow all the good in the world.

Encounter #1. It is often my habit on weekend to complete grocery store stock-ups at a nearby location with a Starbucks. After unloading my groceries and returning the cart to the store’s entrance, I’ll usually visit the Starbucks kiosk. Corey, the familiar and affable, ever-smiling barista, remembers my coffee preference, makes it extra hot, and serves it to me without a wrap in order for me to warm my store-frozen fingers.

On a recent Saturday, I was pushed for time. I decided if there were a line at Starbucks, I’d skip the coffee.   From the shopping cart area, I could see there was no one in line. I walked hastily to snag my spot at the counter when a tall, elegant woman, perhaps 5-10 years older than me, approached from the opposite side. I slowed my pace in order to turn around and exit the store. As I began to turn, the stranger’s eyes met mine.

“Please, Dear, don’t go. You seem in a hurry. I have all of the time in the world,” she stated, gesturing with her arm for me to step up first.

I felt reluctant, but her smile assured me of her genuine feelings. As my coffee was made, I thanked the woman once more. She smiled and uttered, “Merry Christmas, my Dear.” I can still see her smart red pea coat with matching name-brand leather purse, black dress slacks, coifed short bottle-black hair as well as Corey’s beaming face as he handed me my coffee.

Corey is an example of a person who continually offers positive and joyful energy to others on a daily basis–even if he doesn’t like to get his picture taken!  🙂

Encounter #2. Inevitably, it seems I must stop at the grocery store during the workweek. On one such stop, I was moving up and down aisles at a clipped pace trying to find the items on my list. Repeatedly, I encountered a warmly dressed elderly lady with tightly ringed gray hair encircling her head like a silver tiara. Her demeanor was almost ethereal, and her self-possessed smile was a constant fixture upon her finely lined face.

She had the habit of leaving her shopping cart in the middle of aisles, so that no one could get around it as she focused on reading labels and searching shelves. By the second, third, and fourth encounter with her, she recognized my face and laughed, “Oh, here I go again, blocking your way.”

I tried not to feel irritated, as I knew she genuinely did not mean to slow me down.  I had also inadvertently blocked the path of numerous other customers over the years doing the exact same thing.

Later, quickly trekking to my car, I paused just before nearing it. A shopping cart blocked the path to my vehicle as someone placed groceries into a van. It was, unbelievably, the same woman.

“Oh, here I go again, blocking your way. Is this your car? I was just admiring it. Here, let me move. I am not in any hurry.”

While I loaded my bags into my car, she explained that she was making food baskets for low-income families.

“And, I refuse to buy the cheap off-brands for them with all those chemicals. If I won’t eat it, why would I give it to someone else to eat? I buy them the same foods and brands I eat. What kind of gift would it be, if I gave them less than my best?”

Encounter #3. Returning the following Saturday for another weekend grocery stock-up, the store was packed. Every cash register was open; and yet, lines were still backed up into the aisles. I chose a line and prepared for the long wait. Suddenly, a small, beady-eyed woman, perhaps a bit older than me, bustled her cart beside mine.

“I’m going to stand beside you until I can get behind you. I don’t want to block the aisle.”

It was then that I noticed she only had a few items in her cart. I was prepared to tell her she could get in front of me; however, she was talking in a nonstop manner with one continuous breath. I smiled, waiting for an opportunity, when suddenly my ears perked up.

“And you know, we prayed and prayed, and the Lord provided them with a white baby to adopt . . . .”

Wait. What? I felt the implication in my bones and thought of the range of skin colors within my own family, friends, students, co-workers, as well as my day-to-day interactions. Surely, I misheard, right? Nope, her blatant attitude was as set as her chin. I felt the heat rise to my cheeks as I interrupted her, stating through teeth wanting to clinch, that she was welcome to step in front of me. Thankfully, an acquaintance joined the line behind me, and distracted me from this unkind person.

We can choose to focus on all the broken & sad pieces of news, or we can choose to focus on the positive. 

Several minutes later, driving home, I reflected on all three women. I could choose to focus and seethe over the words of the last woman; or, I could, instead, focus on the words and actions of the other two ladies, and for that matter, all of the other countless kind and generous people I encounter on a regular basis. If I continued to allow this encounter to fester within me, then I was, in some way, becoming like her.

In a time-period full of off-putting people and/or events, it is all too easy to focus solely upon those negatives. We must, instead, heed the examples of the first two women, and offer kindness to others. Furthermore, while we must diligently be aware of all the harmful forces at work in our world, we must also strive just as conscientiously to provide the opposite. We must join forces with others who seek out actions that attempt to bring about positive change.   Finally, just as we sometimes focus on the dust, dirt, and disorder in our own home, overlooking the shelter, warmth, and respite it offers us, so too, must we train our minds to look beyond the disorder and decay of our world, and see there still remains much for which to feel optimistic as the first two woman beautifully illustrated.

           “Any change, even a change for the better, is always accompanied by drawbacks and discomforts.”—Arnold Bennett

        “But, Mrs. Hill, if resolution is the end of the story, why do people make New Year’s resolutions?  It’s not the end of their life,” asked one of my 6th grade students–his face was earnest, sincere, and genuinely perplexed.

        I was leading a class lesson regarding elements of a plot.  On the board was a triangular shape representing the parts of the plot.  We had already discussed other components of plot, such as rising/falling action and climax. Additionally, the students appeared to grasp that not all plot development looked like the classic equilateral plot-triangle illustrated on the board, but that plot development can take all shapes, depending upon the story, evolving more like the dips and darts of ocean waves. The student’s question, however, gave me pause.  Hmm . . ..

        I suggested we look up the definition.  Pulling up the definition on my classroom computer and projecting it onto the whiteboard, the students and I observed multiple definitions for the word, resolution.  As so often happens with 6th graders, who are still willing to be openly curious in front of their peers, a class discussion ensued regarding all the meanings of the word, taking us way off the given subject of plot.  Still, it was a teachable moment that later led me into deeper thoughts regarding New Year’s resolutions and methods for successful change.

  I recently listened to a podcast in which the speaker was discussing ways to increase positive change.  It was his belief that many people fail to attain New Year’s resolutions because they see it as an all or nothing mandate.  Furthermore, many health programs, books, and/or businesses profit off our desire to change, by encouraging this all or nothing mentality; such as, “Buy all of our products.  Only eat what and when we tell you to eat.  You must exercise on these specific days and in this manner, and so forth . . ..” Thus, numerous people feel as if they have “failed” if they do not perfectly adhere to the book directions or company protocol at all times.   This speaker was onto something, just like my 6th grade student.

        Changing one’s behavior is a lot like the plot—what works differs from person to person, just a story plots vary from novel to novel.  Unfortunately, many people hold the belief that change should occur the same manner from person to person like that of right triangle—you are either adhering to the straight line climb of established rules, or sliding down the long hypotenuse right back into the sea of old habits.

        What if, however, change was viewed more as a jagged line of progression, like the rising and falling action of a story plot, which gradually leads towards the resolution?    Additionally, what if we attempted to change in small incremental steps towards a specific purpose or direction, rather attempting to change everything all at once? After all, those negative habits we desire to change most likely developed slowly and over time–just like the plot of your favorite book or movie!

        Why not divide habits into those in of need of increasing, and those in need of decreasing.  Perhaps, this might lead to multiple opportunities for feelings of success rather than one.  For example, if your the goal is to eat cleaner and exercise more in order to lose a few pounds and/or increase health, rather than declaring to strict adherence to the latest, greatest diet/exercise plan, why not look for ways to gradually increase and decrease parts of that plan.

        One such example might be,  “This week, I’ll focus on increasing the amount of vegetables I eat at dinner, and decrease the number of times I eat ice cream to a twice-per-week treat.”  Then, the next week, continue the previous week’s habits, but add-in another “increase” and “decrease;” such as, “This week, I’ll increase my activity level by walking (or any other type of exercise) three days, and decrease my consumption of soda from two-per-day to two-per-week.”  If there are moments, days, or even weeks, where you fall off the proverbial wagon, and we all do (Heavens knows I do!), just start all over the next hour, the next meal, or the next day.

Maybe try committing to rolling out that dusty yoga mat 2-3 times per week and practice either a 20-minute yoga session or meditation practice using a youtube video.     

  Even if your resolution to change has nothing to do with diet and exercise, it doesn’t mean the “what can I increase, what can I decrease” notion cannot be applied.  Trying to improve your faith life?  Perhaps, consider decreasing time spent on social media each day for 10 or so minutes, and use that time to increase the time spent in prayer/meditation.  Trying to spend more quality time with family, friends, or loved ones?  Then, maybe try decreasing screen time or work time by 10-20 minutes each day, and increasing time spent in face-to-face conversation, or at the very least a phone calls, with those dear ones.

        Whether contemplating a New Year’s resolution or seeking some form of change for 2018, there will inevitably be some drawbacks, discomforts, or mistakes made along the path of change.  It is often the dread and/or fears of these perceived negatives that often prompt us to give up, or even avoid attempting to change at all.  However, by working on small changes, implemented over a long period of time, the likelihood of success just might increase as the pain of change might be decreased.  Furthermore, each triumphant step can potentially induce the desire for the next positive step, and the next, and the next.

Small step by small step, you can create positive habits as you create and climb your own ladder of success!

        Why not try the  “small steps of increase and decrease” approach for your desired change in 2018?  Then, perhaps, shifting habits will become more like riding a boat on the waves of an ocean—riding up, falling down, and yet, ultimately, reaching the shore of success in whatever form it takes.  Even increasing one healthy habit and decreasing one negative habit can go a long way to overall better physical, spiritual, or emotional health!  

            “Love like I’m not scared/ Give when it’s not fair . . .”—Lyrics by For King and Country

The view of the sunshine on this morning from my school’s stairwell, just before the third floor.

It was a brilliant morning in spite of the chilly temperature. The sun, a bright bulbous orb of succulent cantaloupes, ripe nectarines, and juicy ruby red grapefruits—all bleeding into one blinding source, seemed to float above the river, gloating in its victory over darkness. It’s reflection danced the foxtrot with the silvery tipped water of the Ohio River on left side of my car as I glided across the bridge on my way to work.

Slipping on my sunglasses, I turned onto 6^th Ave., heading east towards my school of employment, St. Joseph Catholic School. The green lights worked in unison as I sashayed in the sunglow down the avenue with no stops. All the while, an inspirational song played on the radio . . .

The view of the sunshine from a house window before leaving for school.           

          “ . . .Live life for another/Take time for a brother/Fight for the weak ones/Speak out for freedom . . . “

Finally, a red light stopped me, just before turning left on 13^th Street.   I waited, singing along, “ . . . Fix my eyes on You/ On you . . .” basking in the warmth of the luminous light of the sun.

Looking to my left, I quickly scanned the front of my church, St. Joseph Catholic Church, near my school, as I waited for the light to change, I noticed the coolness of shadow was upon it as the sun was not yet high enough on the horizon to offer its warming radiance. Something, perhaps it was a movement, registered in my mind that something was off; however, my focus had already darted back to stoplight.

The view of the sun that morning just before pulling out of my driveway.

          “Find faith in the battle/Stand tall but above it all/Fix my eyes on You/On You . . .”

Slowly easing the car to left, I looked to the right, something was moving. It was on the church’s steps. Slowing down even more, my mind finally began to register what I was seeing. A man, who had been curled up in a fetal position only moments earlier at the top of the church’s cold concrete steps, picked up a wadded-up camouflage green jacket that had served as his pillow and shrugged it on as he visibly quivered in the morning coolness. He looked around in what appeared to be a sheepish and embarrassed look as he reached for a backpack with one raw, red hand, and clasped his chip with the U-shape of his thumb and forefinger with the other hand, absentmindedly rubbing his unkempt beard. He had to be freezing, I thought as I punched the code to open the gate to our parking lot.

Even my cats were warmer and better fed than this man I saw before me.

          “I’ve learned the lines and talked the talk . . .But the road less traveled is hard to walk . . .”

Should I go check on him? Would that be a safe thing to do? I know what my husband, father, mother, and daughter would say: unequivocally, no. But, what does my faith teach me? What words do I spout to my students?   What noble ideas do I write about?

As my mind waged its relentless back and forth battle, the seemingly homeless man made the choice for me, he was already walking swiftly past the now closing gate on towards the bus station, or perhaps downtown, as his long, lanky body hunched against the cold. I stood there frozen, watching him walk, and loathing myself for my inaction. I didn’t even try to stop him or speak to him. My inner cloud of doubt and uncertainty now overshadowed the glorious glow of the gleaming sunshine.

As an educator and former Kindergarten teacher, I try to look upon the inner kindergartner of the homeless people I observe and/or encounter around the Huntington area. Not once, during my thirty-plus years of teaching, has a child ever said to me, “When I grow up, Mrs. Hill, I want to be a homeless person!” Never, ever have those words been uttered.

Each homeless person on walking our streets has a biological mother and a father. Furthermore, each, at one point in their life, was once a small child entering school. How many countless hugs have I given over the years to “my students?” How many countless words of encouragement have I offered?

Most of my students came, and still come, from homes in which they have at least one parent who loves and wants them; however, there have been a few students with home situations that still haunt me . . .

Dear unknown man, I am so very sorry for whatever circumstance you’ve encountered in life that brought you to the steps of our church. I’d like to think that God held you like a baby in His arms that night on those steps. I’d further like to think that all the prayers, intentions, and words of the thousands of church services previously offered were seeping through the seams of the doors and windows like wafting incense, covering you with a blanket of love. And yet, the reality is as harsh as the shining sunlight must have been to your eyes on that morning.

I did nothing for you that morning. Nothing. I did not walk my talk, and I am ashamed. Thus, I honor you in this small way by recognizing that I saw the child in you: and, I pray that you will, one day, see that you are a child of God—and know that you are worthy. I will further hope that you will, one day, find peace, and that it will embrace your life like a motherly hug, or at the very least, like the hug of a caring teacher.

            “It takes a soldier/Who knows his orders/To walk the walk I’m supposed to walk . . .”