“There is no greater calling than to serve your fellow man. There is no greater contribution than to help the weak. There is no greater satisfaction than to have done it well.” ~Walter Reuther, American Labor Organizer (1907-1970)
It was Wednesday afternoon and the indoor basketball court at the local Y was bustling with activity. Two half-court pickup games were in full gear, just a bunch of guys burning off nervous energy and testosterone. It was the shirts versus the skins. They banged and bumped, shouted and shot, razzing their opponents and rooting for their team mates. Basketball shoes chirped against the wooden floor.
The two half courts were separated by only a narrow expanse of floor: little more than a wooden-floored alley-way with invisible walls. There, in the midst of this cacophony of physical activity, was a solitary woman.
Her hair was mousy brown and she had a slight overbite. She was dressed in light pink belled stretch pants and an ill-fitting white polo shirt. On her feet she wore white, high-top, lace-up tennis shoes. Her movements were jerky and looked particularly awkward compared to the grace and physical acumen of the players who surrounded her.
The woman was attempting to slap-dribble a regulation NBA basketball. Rather than “pumping” the ball, keeping it as low to the ground as possible, she would slap it on top to make it bounce and then try to slap it down again on each rebound. At the same time, she took halting steps forward as if she were attempting to dribble down court. Her movements were graceless, none seeming to coordinate with the others.
Suddenly the ball bounced particularly high. She reached up to slap it down, but instead, her slap launched the ball into the middle of one of the pickup games. Everything came to a sudden and abrupt halt. Her ball came to rest at the feet of a particularly burley participant. Two crosses were tattooed on his chest and a day’s growth of beard shadowed his face.
He looked down at the ball and then across the court at the woman who stood there staring at him, a worried look on her face. Bending over, he plucked the ball from the floor. Then, cradling it in his left arm, he strode purposefully toward the woman. She continued to stare at him expectantly until he reached her. Then her gaze went to the floor.
By now the other game had come to a halt as well as they all looked on. The burly basketball player reached out with his right hand and placed it gently on the woman’s back. “You OK?” he asked softly. The woman looked up from the floor and nodded with a toothy grin.
With his left hand he carefully presented the ball to her. She curled her arms upward embracing the ball as she did so. “You be careful now,” he said kindly. “We don’t want you to get hurt.” Again, she looked at him nodding with the same toothy grin.
He smiled, patted her on the shoulder, and then returned to his game. The gym came alive again: two hotly-contested pickup games and a solitary woman, slap-dribbling a basketball down the middle between them.
Amidst the bustle and confusion of life, it is often easy to miss or ignore the individuals who most need our loving attention. In a world of mega-charities (over 3 million in the United States alone), we often abrogate our responsibility for our fellow travelers on this earth, assuming our donations will take care of it all. We give generously of our wealth. But do we give generously of ourselves?
Perhaps the greatest gift we can share is our humanity – our humanness. Human necessities, such as food and clothing, can be provided, but how much more important it is for us to nurture the human person.
It might surprise some to know this story relates only one of many such occurrences; this same scenario repeats itself often on this particular basketball court. The woman’s ball is retrieved for her regularly. Once she was hit by an errant pass. The players surrounded her to make sure she was OK; to reassure her and to comfort her.
As stewards we are reminded that the care of others can never be fully delegated to an organization and that donations of our treasure are only a partial fulfillment of our responsibility to the rest of humankind. Rather, we are called to love and nurture one another, one-on-one.
Dear God: Who needs my time, attention and comfort today?
“How far you go in life depends on your being tender with the young, compassionate with the aged, sympathetic with the striving and tolerant of the weak and the strong. Because someday in your life you will have been all of these.” ~George Washington Carver, American, started life as a slave and ended it as a horticulturalist, chemist and educator (1864-1943)
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“90 Second Stewardship” is a reflection on being a Christian Steward in a secular and sometimes harsh world. This reflection is written by James E. Carper, Stewardship Coordinator for Saint Monica Catholic Community in Santa Monica, California. All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
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