Greatness

{faith, hope, love}

Among the brightest of women

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No doubt we would have been preparing to celebrate Phoebe’s birthday this weekend. While the actual date of her birth fell on February 20, her calendar of festivities filled rather quickly. I imagine this year would have been especially so, being her one-hundredth celebration and all.

Alas, she bid her final farewell at ninety-nine. And for most of those ninety-nine years, we knew nary a thing of this girl from Riverside, California  . . .

We knew her not when entered this world in 1918; when she graduated from Kuna High School in 1935; or when she attended Pioneer Business College in Minneapolis, Minnesota in 1936 . . . when she worked in military communications during  World War II; or when she married the love of her life in 1948 . . . when she lived in New York; or when she returned to Boise, into that grand old house on twenty-second street . . . when she worked for the tax commission; when she raised show dogs; when she traveled about, amassing one adventure after another.

No, we knew nary a thing of her until she joined the “old girls” at “the home.” By that time she’d be quick to shoo away a camera for fear it would make her look old; and she was more than ready to accept her boarding pass to the great beyond–to be reunited with those she loved most of all.

But unlike some who tire of this world, she rarely complained; instead, she chose to make the most of each day. And despite the years that layered one upon another, she continued to have a youthful gleam in her eye.

Perhaps its one of the things that made us fast friends.

Despite our age difference, we shared a love of laughter. We shared a love of clouds and the myriad of ways they dance upon the sky. We shared an understanding that the ache of some disappointments (never holding a baby of your own, for instance) never truly goes away; that you can (and most certainly should) make the best of the hand you’ve been dealt, but a twinge of pain continues to tug at your heart.

I imagine if we had been born in the same place, at the same time, we’d have been inseparable. Instead, she paved the way; she showed me how to grow old . . .

In the few short years we knew her, she taught us the importance of looking your best–even when you can no longer wear the shoes you love, or it takes hours to prepare; that wit remains timeless; that friends and family are your anchors–that you should hug, and say “I love you,” and accept those invitations for as long as you can; that age does not have to dim your spark.

Phoebe, brightest of women–she certainly, lived up to her name.

At her memorial service, her niece read aloud one of her favorite poems:

Life owes me nothing. Let the years
Bring cloud or azure, joy or tears;
Already a full cup I’ve qualified;
Already wept and loved and laughed.
And seen, in ever-endless ways,
New beauties overwhelm the days.

Life owes me nought. No pain that waits
Can steal the wealth from memory’s gates;
No aftermath of anguish slow
Can quench the soul fire’s early glow.
I breathe, exulting every breath,
Embracing Life, ignoring Death.

Life owes me nothing. One clear morn
Is boon enough for being born;
And be ninety or ten,
No need for me to question when.
While Life is mine, I’ll find it good.
And greet each hour with gratitude.

Anonymous

Words she obviously took to heart. And if her life is any indication, it would behoove us all to do the same.

Thank you

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Today, we celebrate our veterans.

It was President Woodrow Wilson who first proclaimed it Armistice Day:

“To us in America, the reflections of Armistice Day will be filled with solemn pride in the heroism of those who died in the country’s service and with gratitude for the victory, both because of the thing from which it has freed us and because of the opportunity it has given America to show her sympathy with peace and justice in the councils of the nations.” (November 11, 1919)

In 1945, it became a day to honor all veterans, whether living or dead, serving stateside or abroad, in times of war or of peace.

As for us, this year will be a bit more solemn. This year we’ll be preparing to say goodbye to two of our own.

The threat, you see, is never far removed.

And yet, they serve.

So to the men and women of the United States Army, Marine Corp, Nay, Air Force, Coast Guard, Army National Guard, Army Reserve, Marine Corps Forces Reserve, Navy Reserve, Air National Guard, Air Force Reserve, and Coast Guard Reserve, we salute you. And we offer our deepest thanks . . .

veterans-day-pics-2014

Imagine: Lincoln

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You may have seen the idea floating about on Facebook–people posting their first blog post. It’s a fun little exercise. After all, how many of us have been around the blogs we read since their early beginnings? I, for one started blogging at the end of 2005. I had just lost my job at a family foundation–a job where I could make a difference. A job I loved. I was floundering a bit, so I decided to write a series about inspirational folk. Titled ‘Imagine,’ it would be a look at the hardships great people endured. I still think it’s a good idea; it would behoove us to stop every once in awhile and consider what makes a life great. After all, greatness is often only recognized as such when you look back.

So without further ado, my first blog post, originally posted November 26, 2005 . . .

Imagine a boy, born into a poor, illiterate family, in a dirt-floored, one-room log cabin, in the backwoods of Kentucky. His own father ridicules him for wanting to learn–for taking precious moments between chores to read.  Yet even though his formal education is sparse, he continues to read, borrowing books from neighbors, and reading by firelight at the close of the day. Only at twenty-two does he begin to learn the basics of math. He works as a clerk for a small country store. A year later the store goes bankrupt. He and a friend purchase a store of their own. It too falters, leaving behind a mount of debt. He becomes Captain of a military company, but the company soon disbands. One woman he loves dies, another turns down his proposal. At times he battles severe depression. He obtains a patent. Yet nothing becomes of his invention. He runs for Congress. He loses. He runs for U.S. Senate. Again he loses.

No doubt many of us would take the hint.  Enough things go wrong, what’s the use in even trying?  Besides, what good could possibly come of such a life? What good indeed . . .

Through wit and devotion this boy became a man of friends. Through dedication and integrity he put himself through law school and actually became known as an honest lawyer. Through perseverance and conviction, he became one of the most influential people of all time. Sure, he may not have won the senatorial election, but he won enough votes to become the 16th President of the United States of America–helping to create our national currency, fighting to keep the union together, and most importantly, beginning the process to end slavery.

Next time we face one too many setbacks let us think of Abraham Lincoln. A charmed life his was not. Yet he continued to live out his convictions; he chose to continue to fight, even when the battle seemed uphill and his heart was breaking. If, despite everything, he still managed to make a difference, chances are, so can we.

abraham_lincoln

It’s never really out

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school2

School’s in. At least it’s right around the corner.

Away on business, a friend could not make his kids’ first day of school, so he sent his wishes on the wings of Facebook:

Have fun. Be awesome. Give something. Help someone. Be kind. Respect your teachers. Question appropriately.
You can be anything you choose and that starts with good choices now.

Good advice for us all, really. After all, the days of musty smelling classrooms and old, cumbersome textbooks may come to a close, but the school of life is never really out. There’s always something to learn, always a problem to figure out. And just when we think we know all the answers, life throws a fast one, circumstances change, and we must learn it all anew.

So as we start a new week–whether it be school, or work, or play–let’s determine to have fun, to be great–even in the little things. Let’s give a little something, offer a helping hand to someone in need, and show a little kindness. Let’s look for those who can teach us a thing or two, and give them our respect. Let’s continue to question, to try something new, to learn, even now.

By doing so, who knows? Life just might turn out better than we had ever dared imagine . . .

To the helpers

santa_mom

Would you look at that rain smock Santa’s donned–he must have braved many a downpour in 1972.

Oh wait, that’s not Santa . . . that’s my mum . . . holding my cousin Haley. Her impersonation is so spot on I nearly didn’t recognize her.

Speaking of which, my mom received a letter in the mail yesterday, from a few of Santa’s helpers. They spoke of sneaking in a late night snack from the Stinker Station when they spotted Santa, disheveled and more than a bit ruffled, leaning against the Slurpee machine. They wandered over and asked what might be troubling the usually cheery fellow. Time, it would seem.  He simply hadn’t the time to deliver all the gifts he’d like. But suddenly, just as it seemed he might be losing all hope, a smile teased his lips. He realized, you see, the people before him knew my mum–one of the very people on his list! He explained how he knew she’s not seen her grandson for two years–two years! {Santa knows everything, you know} And while he’d be more than willing to take her in his sleigh, it’s against regulation. So it was, Santa’s helpers volunteered to send a check–one that will just about cover a plane ticket to Sweden.

My mom read the letter and cried. She read the letter aloud, to me, and I cried. {And the angels sang, There they go again . . .}

There were no names listed, no return address. Just Santa’s helpers: people who gave a considerable amount of money, at a time when money tends to be scarce; people who took time during the busiest time of year to write a story–a story, with marvelous detail—with which to accompany a gift that can never be repaid. 

Last week we saw the worst of humanity. It’s not even an isolated incident. Though we may not know the names, we may not see the faces, unimaginable travesties take place day after day, the whole world through. Yet if you look, for every act of misery, there are more acts of kindness.

Mister Rogers once said, “When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’ To this day, especially in times of ‘disaster,’ I remember my mother’s words, and I am always comforted by realizing that there are still so many helpers–so many caring people in this world.”

You have only to look to see it’s true. There always seem to be people who truly care, people who give–selflessly, not in a big, flashy manner, not for fame or fanfare–simply to meet a need, to lift a burden, to offer a bit of cheer. Like stars in the night sky, they go about quietly spreading light in the darkness. They’re Santa’s helpers; they’re God’s helpers; they are our helpers.

So as our weekend marches right into the Christmas holiday, I pray you’ll be surrounded by those you love most; I pray you’ll make memories to bring a smile to your face years down the road; I pray you’ll happen upon a ‘helper,’ be one yourself–maybe even a little of both–and your Christmas will be all the brighter because of it.

May the coming days be Merry & Bright, indeed!