Recommendation Letters

“If you can't feed a hundred people, then feed just one.” ~Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta, Roman Catholic nun, Nobel Peace Prize recipient, founded the Missionaries of Charity (1910-1997)

It was the Sunday before Thanksgiving and at the Parish Center things were humming. Two rows of turkeys, stuffed, seasoned, slathered with herb butter, bagged, and lying in pans, lined the length of the marble-green counter waiting their turn in the oven. 

Marcus and Kristine systematically removed turkeys from the oven and loaded in fresh ones.  The cooked turkeys rested on a separate counter for an appropriate interval before their carcasses were stripped of their succulent meat, which was transferred to metal pans for storage.

Thomas was shuttling donations of turkeys from the parking lot to the kitchen door in a gray pushcart.  Marcus divided his time between cooking and helping Thomas carry the uncooked birds from the cart to a temporary storage location. 

Every time Marcus thought he had emptied the cart it would reappear, replenished with turkeys.  “Aren’t we ever going to run out?” Marcus asked Thomas.  “It’s a cornucopia” smiled Thomas.  “Or the miracle of the multiplication of the turkeys,” chuckled Marcus.  Sunday afternoon came and went.  Even as the winter California sun dipped below the horizon, the turkeys kept coming.

In Mark’s version of the “Feeding of the 5,000” (Mark 6:35-44), it is evening and the crowd, which has spent the day listening to Jesus preach, is famished.  The disciples come to Jesus and ask him to send the people away so they can get something to eat. 

Jesus’ answer is short and to the point: “You give them something to eat,” he says.  But the disciples respond, “We don’t have enough.”  Jesus reply is again succinct, “How many loaves do you have?” The disciples’ search produces five loaves and two fish.  Jesus receives the bread, blesses it, breaks it, and distributes it.  As it turns out, there was more than enough.

Like the disciples, we often ask God to send our problems away.  We find ourselves asking God to change our circumstances rather than thanking Him for the abundance we already enjoy. How often do we hope someone else will handle the problems of the world, the community, or even our family? 

“Someone ought to do something about that!” we say. “But not me,” we mutter quietly to ourselves.  We subliminally respond, “We don’t have enough?” 

“If [however] our entry into heaven required a letter of reference from the poor, would we be able to get one?”  There are 1.02 billion hungry people in the world today.  Every day

over 16,000 children will die from hunger, 1 every 5 seconds. 

How can there not be enough?  The combined net worth of the three richest people in the world is greater than the combined net worth of the 48 poorest nations, representing one quarter of the world’s population. 

The real miracle of the “feeding of the 5,000” is God working through us when we think “we don’t have enough”.  Marcus’ and Thomas’ turkeys didn’t appear by magic, but the Holy Spirit was definitely on duty that day.  It is Jesus speaking to us in our heart of hearts and saying, “What do you have?” and our realizing that what we have is more than enough, and then acting upon that realization. 

Come share in the miracle; not just now, but all year round.  The poor are waiting out there with our recommendation letters.

Dear God: Remind me daily that I have more than enough.

“If you offer your food to the hungry and satisfy the needs of the afflicted, then your light shall rise in the darkness and your night will become like the noonday.”  Isaiah 58:10

 

© 2009 and 2011 James E. Carper.  All rights reserved.

 
“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, Director of Development at Southeast Ventura County YMCA's.  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.

Civilly Convicted

“What is objectionable, what is dangerous, about extremists is not that they   are extreme, but that they are intolerant. The evil is not what they say about   their cause, but what they say about their opponents.”  ~ Robert F. Kennedy, U.S. Attorney General and advisor (1925-1968)  My finger hovered over the enter key. With a single stroke I could send the offending “friend” away into “unfriended” oblivion. I paused.  The whole thing had started innocently enough with an obtuse religious slur camouflaged by a joke of sorts. I sent, what I thought was, a “diplomatic” clarifying response. “Just because I’m a Christian doesn’t mean I’m a member of any particular group,” I had commented.   The electronic “pile-on” started almost immediately. Like an electronic nightmare the terse one-liners came. The more I responded the more the comments flew back at me, the hostility and negative energy escalating.  Comments were coming from people I didn’t even know and who didn’t know me and yet I was being convicted for my convictions.  (My brand new piece of technology had promised me the ultimate in an electronic experience, an unbridled capacity to communicate. Unfortunately this was not the experience for which I had been looking.)  So there I sat, about to electronically remove someone from my life. Someone I had known for over thirty years. Would the instant gratification quickly give way to a mountain of regret? The blue box with white letters “REMOVE FROM FRIENDS?” glowed at me. “ARE YOU SURE…?” it asked. No, I wasn’t.  I quickly closed the site promising myself I wouldn’t return to it for awhile.  It seems we need to assure ourselves we have villains so that we might be heroes. But life isn’t so simple. I am not the demographic average of a particular group who shares one or more of my beliefs.  Dr Richard Mouw, in his book, Uncommon Decency, quotes Martin Marty: "One of the real problems in life is that the people who are good at being civil often lack strong convictions and people who have strong convictions often lack civility." Dr. Mouw suggests we need both a civil outlook and a "passionate intensity" about our convictions. What we need is a "convicted civility."  This is easy to proclaim and very difficult to do. To love and care about someone while they are ranting against a belief or beliefs we hold sacred is challenging. And yet, it is not our ability to convince another that what we believe is right. Rather it is our ability to affirm our convictions while remaining civil, kind and loving even to those who passionately (and even aggressively) disagree with us. This action will speak louder than our words.  The measure of who we are will not be taken by our ability to verbally wrestle another to the ground, or to “out-clever” them, or to “out-post” them. Rather, in the face of all things, we are called to love them. After all, isn’t that what Jesus did?  Dear God: Teach me convicted civility. “It takes a disciplined person to listen to convictions which are different from their own.” ~Dorothy Fuldheim, American journalist and anchor(1893-1989)   © 2011 James E. Carper.  All rights reserved.  “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.

One on One

“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)

© 2011 James E. Carper.  All rights reserved.
“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. 

Quotation Confrontation

“The first duty of love is to listen” ~Paul Tillich, German born American theologian and philosopher (1886-1965)

We had shared an office for less than two months. I knew her faith tradition and she knew mine. Both devout Christians, it seemed we had silently agreed to disagree, but what we actually believed had never been discussed.

All I knew for sure was she had been raised in a strict Southern Baptist home. Her father was, in fact, a Baptist minister. This essentially meant no singing, dancing, games or even music in the house.

Like most arguments, it was a stupid argument. Anything beyond a discussion is always unnecessary escalation, but so it went. It had started innocently enough; Just a simple question really. “Have you been saved?” she had asked. “Of course,” I responded, without really paying attention.

Then came my mistake. “I was saved when Christ died on the cross,” I added cleverly, almost as an afterthought. “That’s not all there is to it you know!” she retorted. “I know,” I replied dismissively. “It’s how you live out that commitment as well.” At this point I had moved on, but she hadn’t.

“It’s not about what you do, it’s about making Christ your personal Savior.”  The expression was all too familiar. It was time to walk away, but I couldn’t. I was sitting at my own desk in the office we shared.  “For me, it’s a little more than a simple declaration; I think it’s about how you live your life.”

Now I had passed the point of no return. I should have recognized the age-old argument of faith versus works. Instead I had run head long into one of the oldest debates in Christendom. Compromise had never been achieved between Protestants and Catholics on this subject, nor would it be on this day.

The curt discussion quickly degenerated into volleys of Bible text, mostly Romans on her side (Martin Luther’s favorite) and the Book of James on mine. I probably should have avoided quoting the line about faith without works being “thoroughly lifeless.”

Suddenly she was up and out of her chair and on her way out the door.  “I have things to do,” she said curtly over her shoulder, then disappeared around the corner in the direction of the copy room.

We are fast becoming a world of “who can out-quip who.” The confrontation between my office partner and me related to religion, but it could have been about politics, social issues or even sports. Rather than engaging in frank honest discussion, it became a contest as to who could cite the more authoritative reference.

 If you happen to be a fan of social networking you know that there are entire strings of authoritative “comments.” Some post seem to be the equivalent of verbal landmines just waiting for someone to “step on them.”

Not too surprisingly, there is a word for this. It’s called “proof-texting.” It occurs when you adopt a particular stance on an issue, then search for documentation (usually quotes) to justify taking that position.

My argument with my friend arose out of a smug self confidence in my own beliefs and the ill-advised belief that a discussion of this kind could be easily handled with a few choice comments. In other words, I tried to take a short cut where there was none to be taken.

True confidence in our beliefs cannot be demonstrated by reliance on a few pithy quotes or a download from YouTube. Confidence in our beliefs is truly demonstrated by our willingness to respectfully engage others in an effort to fully explore why they believe what they believe.

In my situation, how much better it would have been if I had responded with a genuine question like: “I’m not sure I understand that expression. What does it mean exactly?” Or, “How has that belief served you in your life?”

Rather than employing a bumper sticker mentality, we must try to respect and understand the beliefs of others, not out-quote them.  

Dear God: Help me to listen first, ask question second and allow my brain to engage before my mouth is opened.

“(People) are respectable only as they respect.” ~Ralph Waldo Emerson, American poet, lecturer and essayist (1803-1882)

© 2011 James E. Carper.  All rights reserved.

“90 Second Stewardship”  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.

The Meaning of Life

“Action without a name, a "who" attached to it, is meaningless.” ~Andrea Yerger

Abby looked on as her mother carefully sliced off each of the ends of the beef roast. The roast had been marinating most of the day and was now ready for the oven. Abby’s mother nestled the hefty piece of beef into a roasting pan. Plucking the two “ends” from the cutting board she carefully placed them, one on each side, of the roast. “Why do you do that?” Abigail asked. “Do what?” her mother responded, placing the lid on the roasting pan and popping the roaster into the oven.

“You always cut the ends off the roast and stick them on the sides. Why do you do that?” My mother, your Grandma, always did it that way?” she answered absent-mindedly.  “But why did she do it that way?” Abby persisted. “I don’t know,” her mother said finally. “Let’s ask her.”

Abby’s mother touched the screen of her Smartphone several times then placed it on the counter. The speaker magnified the sound of the ring; then a click sound. “Hello, Wilson residence.”

“Hi Mom,” Abby’s mother started to say, only to be drowned out by Abby, “HI GRANDMA!” she shouted. “Hi, honey,” replied the voice on the other end. “Grandma, we have a question. Why do you cut the ends off the roast?” There was a pause. “What do you mean, honey?” came the voice. “Mom, when you cooked a beef roast you always cut the ends off and put them on the sides before you put it in the oven… Why did you do that?”

Again there was a pause. “I don’t know exactly,” she replied finally. “My mother always did it that way.” “How can we find out?” asked Abby’s mother. “Well, we could drive up to the ‘home’ and ask Great Grandma Wilson. We’re overdue for a visit.” They all agreed to go that weekend. A departure time was arranged. Then Abby’s mother clicked off.

Sunday came and the three of them, Abby’s Mom behind the wheel, drove the 30 miles to a cozy sheltered living facility in the foothills of the Smokey Mountains. They parked in visitors’ parking and headed into the quaint main building.

They found Great Grandma Wilson seated in her wheel chair facing the expansive east window in the “green room.” The vista she looked out upon featured lush, wooded mountains, blue skies and puffy white clouds. She loved to sit in the sun, allowing the warmth to embrace her achy joints. Though physically bowed by age, her body wracked with arthritis, her mind was still clear as a bell.

Abby, was the first to reach her great grandma, with the other two women close behind. They all chattered their greetings almost simultaneously, asking and answering a variety of questions. Finally, they wheeled the old woman to a quiet corner. They seated themselves on a sofa, facing Great Grandma, in preparation for the question they had come to ask.

Abby’s mother leaned forward: “Grandmother,” she began. “We have a question.” “Well what is it?” replied Great Grandma. “At my age I don’t have many secrets left,” she chuckled.

“Grandmother,” she began again. “Do you remember, when you used to make your famous beef roast, how you cut the ends off?” “Of course I remember,” she answered. “And then you would take the ends and put them on the sides of the roast in the roaster?” “Yup, I remember,” she replied again, seemingly a little perplexed.

Abby’s mother leaned in even farther. “Why did you do that?” Abby, her mother and grandmother waited expectedly for Great Grandmother Wilson’s reply. “Why did I do that?” she echoed. “You drove all this way to ask why I cut the ends off the roast and put them on the sides of the roast in the pan?” The women nodded a response.

She mused for a moment. “OK, I’ll tell you,” Great Grandma replied thoughtfully. “But you have to promise not to tell anyone else.” They all nodded agreement. The old woman leaned forward and hushed her voice. “The reason I did that was a very good one.” They leaned closer as her voice got quieter. She looked around to make sure no one else could hear her. “The reason I did that was simple... The reason I did that,” (she paused for a very long time) “was because” (another long pause) “my roasting pan was too small.” A moment later they burst into laughter.

Activity without context is simply empty action. It is what some call “just going through the motions.” We automatically, sometimes robotically, go through our day – kissing our loved ones goodbye, greeting or thanking one another, performing various formalities and informalities without connecting those activities to something meaningful. 

Abby asked the right question: “Why do you do that?”

David, one of my Jewish friends, greets me by kissing me on the cheek. I once asked him why he did that. “I shake the hand of many I do not know or care about, even some I might consider enemies, but only a good friend would I kiss on the cheek,” was his response. 

(Note to self: as a practicing Catholic I make a lot of gestures in church – kneeling, bowing, crossing myself. Why do I do that? If I know why, should I not make those gestures as if I knew why?)

If it were the last time, would you say goodbye to your loved ones differently? It might be the last! If it were your last cup of coffee, would you thank the barista differently? It might be your last cup of coffee! When you greet your friends, if they really are your friends, and it were the last time, like David, would you greet them differently? It might be the last time!

Being good stewards of our time, it is important that we fill our lives with meaningful activity. This does not mean we should discontinue our current activities. In some cases, the roasting pan is too small and the ends of the roast do need to be cut off! What it does mean, is we need to discover for ourselves why we do the things we do and in turn behave as if we know why.

If I truly love someone, should I not behave as such when I greet them or when I say goodbye to them? By doing so, we will approach our lives with a new sincerity, realizing that our gestures need not, should not, be empty. If we fill our daily activities with meaning, the corresponding responses will no doubt surprise us.

Dear God: Remind me I am responsible for giving meaning to what I do.

“So many people walk around with a meaningless life. They seem half-asleep, even when they’re busy doing things they think are important… The way you get meaning into your life is to devote yourself to loving others…” ~Morrie Schwartz (Sociology professor and author, subject of the book Tuesday’s with Morrie (1916-1995)

© 2011 James E. Carper.  All rights reserved.

 “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, Director of Development for Southeast Ventura County YMCA.  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. 

First Response

“The Brooklyn Wall of Remembrance stands as a graceful and beautiful tribute to those who made the ultimate sacrifice on September 11, 2001. Comprised of three 30x12 foot granite walls, the Coney Island memorial contains the laser-engraved images of 346 Firefighters, 37 Port Authority Officers, 23 NYC Police Officers, 3 NYS Officers, 1 Fire Patrol, and 1 K-9 Rescue dog named Sirius. Touched by the magnitude of their sacrifice, Brooklyn-born and raised Sol Moglen conceived of the idea for a memorial. On the Wall, their portraits form a powerful, unforgettable testament, eloquently spoken, reminding us these are real people behind the names and numbers of September 11...Families come for comfort, not for grief. To hear the sound of children laughing, feel the sun’s warmth and listen to the quiet voice of the ocean. It is fitting New York City’s first memorial to 9/11 would be in Brooklyn. Fully a third of the responders, who died on 9/11, either lived or worked in the Borough. Since its inception, the Wall of Remembrance has become recognized for its beautiful and meaningful tribute to these men and women. Remembering is our responsibility and learning from them is their honor.”  ~ Introduction to thebrooklynwall.org

The barista, a young woman in an apron and baseball cap, placed the two travel packs of coffee on the counter followed by a large cup of cream and a large cup of coffee in a carrier. Finally, the barista set out a bag containing stir sticks and paper packs of sugar and sweetener.

“Will there be anything else?” she said with a smile. The black woman on the other side of the counter sighed. “No, that should be everything I need,” she said, eying the two, bulky, brown, boxes of coffee. Shifting her bag to her shoulder, the woman started to arrange the items in an effort to make a single trip to the car.

A 50-ish middle-aged man, seated with his wife, had watched the barista deliver the coffee supplies to the counter. Almost immediately he realized the woman was going to attempt to carry everything out the door all at once…by herself. Without hesitation, he excused himself from the table and walked briskly to the counter.

 

“Would you like me to help you?” he asked. The woman turned to face him. “Well,” she replied glancing back at the items on the counter. “Yes, that would be great,” she said, breaking into a smile.

 

The man picked up the two carriers then stepped back, motioning for the woman to go ahead of him. Holding the door with her hip they exited the coffee store together heading for the woman’s car.

Placing the carrier with the cream and coffee on the roof of her car she fumbled for the keys in her bag. “Take your time,” the man said with a smile. “I don’t have to be anywhere soon.” She returned his smile as she extracted the keys from her bag and unlocked the car.

 

She loaded the cream and the bag of supplies; then took the coffee carriers from the man, one at a time and loaded them into her car as well. Then she closed the car door with a sense of finality. “I wish I could take you along to the hospital,” she said turning to the man again. “We nurses love our coffee.”

 

“So do I, maybe next time,” he replied with a chuckle. Then he turned and headed back to the store to finish his coffee.

 
Ten years later, we still remember and honor the first responders to the 9/11 tragedy. It didn’t matter if they were a burly fireman, a lady cop, a Catholic chaplain or a rescue dog; we remember their unselfish acts performed in the interest of helping others.
 

We too are called to be “first responders,” to be the Good Samaritans of our day. Being a first responder does not necessarily mean we must put ourselves in harm’s way by running into a collapsing high-rise. What it does mean is to be willing to help others without hesitation and without consideration for the inconvenience or discomfort it might cause us.

 

These first responses are often simple things: holding a door open, picking up a dropped item or items for someone, helping a senior to the car, allowing someone go ahead of you (in line or on the road), thanking someone, or even just smiling, saying hello, or remembering someone’s name. Being a first responder means doing those thousand little kindnesses, that when we don’t do them, we say to ourselves, “I wish I had done that.” And, when we do respond spontaneously, we realize how good it feels afterward.

We can never adequately repay the first responders of 9/11/2001, but we can honor them. We honor them every time we are the first responder to the needs of another.

Dear God: Help me today to respond without hesitation.

 

“You been training for this moment your entire life. The universe has been conspiring, if you think about it, to put you right here, right now. Off you go, we're all waitin' on ya.” ~Jonas Blane, Character from ‘The Unit’ (TV Show 2006, Episode Title: ‘First Response’)

© 2011 James E. Carper.  All rights reserved.

 “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, Director of Development for Southeast Ventura County YMCA.  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

Fresh Eyes

“The ego puts its own interest first and twists every argument, word, even fact to suit that interest.” ~Paul Brunton, British philosopher, traveler, mystic and guru (1898-1981)

Emily awoke to find someone yelling at her, or at least it seemed like they were yelling; she wasn’t sure. What were they saying? As best as she could tell, she was being told to get up. Sitting up in her small bed, Emily looked around wondering what was happening. The woman in the blue uniform was taking her from her bed and putting her in what appeared to be a wheelchair. Why a wheelchair? She could walk. Safely seated, the foot rests in place, off they went, but to where…she wasn’t sure.

Marilee had worked on Emily’s wing for nearly a year. She didn’t need a doctor’s diagnosis to know Emily belonged in the dementia wing of the facility; she exhibited most of the classic symptoms.

Constantly irritable and mean spirited, the woman seemed to be in a constant state of confusion and disorientation. Just this morning she couldn’t even understand it was time to get out of bed. The staff doctor had made the determination Emily needed to remain wheelchair-bound. The dementia had affected her equilibrium and she often lost her balance and fell for no apparent reason.  The wheelchair would assure her safety.

Margaret, the supervisor of the dementia and Alzheimer’s wing, didn’t have time to babysit the new staff doctor, but Dr. Doug had insisted that he make a preliminary assessment of every resident. She already missed old Dr. Winehart. He knew when to involve himself and when to stay out of the way.

They arrived at Emily’s room. She had just been returned from breakfast and was sitting in her wheelchair alone. Her hands were folded on her lap and she was staring out the window. “Emily Johnson?” Dr. Doug said, requesting the file. “We can skip her,” Margaret said impatiently. “Hers is a clear case of dementia. No other health problems to speak of.” “I would still like to do a ‘prelim’ on her,” the Doctor replied with a patient smile. Margaret shrugged and sighed reluctant agreement.

“Good morning,” Dr. Doug said cheerily as he stepped into the room. Emily didn’t respond. “Hi, Emily,” he said, coming closer. Still no response. “Emily,” he repeated, touching her arm. Emily jumped. Turning to face the Doctor, shrinking into her chair, she cringed in fear, lifting her arms, preparing to defend herself. Dr. Doug smiled patiently. “I’m Dr. Doug. I’m just here to give you a little check up.”

Whatever the reason, Emily seemed to calm down almost immediately. Dr. Doug proceeded with his exam, while Margaret stood in the doorway, her arms crossed, glancing at her watch.  First he checked all of Emily’s ‘vitals’: BP, pulse, reflexes, and respiration. “Her temperature is slightly high,” he commented. “That’s not unusual around here,” Margaret remarked, again glancing at her watch.

Dr. Doug took an otoscope out of his coat pocket and slipped on a sterile paper cap. At first, he glanced in each of Emily’s ears. He paused for a moment, as if contemplating something. Then, he reexamined the outer ear canals again, this time more slowly.

“How long has Emily had this ear infection?” he asked, looking up at Margaret from where he knelt next to the wheelchair. “Ear infection?” was the only response. “Yes, she has massive infections in both ears.” “It explains the low grade fever and why she didn’t hear me when I spoke to her.” Margaret stared at the doctor. “Ear infection? Are you sure?” “Absolutely, I don’t think I’ve seen one this bad before.” Emily must have been suffering with it for quite some time.” Again, Margaret made no response.

“It’s so bad,” Dr. Doug continued, “it’s probably affecting her equilibrium.” He glanced at the chair. “Why is she in a wheelchair?” He asked. “She was, ah, falling down a lot,” Margaret responded quietly, glancing away from the doctor’s stare.  “Surely she’s been exhibiting some kind of distress, like crankiness or irritability?” he persisted.

This time, not waiting for a response, Dr. Doug turned back to Emily. He spoke slowly and a little louder than normal: “Emily, you have a massive ear infection. We’re going to get you started on a regimen of medicine to make you well. I’m also going to recommend some therapy to build up the strength in your legs. Then we’ll see if we can move you to another wing. Do you understand?” Emily smiled and nodded.

Dr. Doug got to his feet and started to turn. “Thank you Doctor,” Emily said quietly.

Dr. Doug smiled and patted her shoulder. He turned again and headed out the door. “If you have lunch plans, you might want to think about cancelling them” he said to Margaret, brushing by her on his way out the door.

Though efforts continue to eliminate them, discrimination and bias still exist in our country. Racial tolerance needs to give way to racial acceptance and ultimately cultural appreciation. We rant against “racial profiling”, but what about “age profiling”? How often do we assume the young are not sufficiently wise to understand or the old not sufficiently lucid to comprehend?

In our efforts to get more done in our daily lives, we often take shortcuts. A more efficient route to work or an express line in the grocery store is a good idea, but there are no shortcuts when it comes to relationships.

Shortcuts lead to assumptions and assumptions lead to bias. One of those biases is that our elders become objects to be maintained rather human beings with whom we need to foster relationships. When we view them as objects, it is all too easy to determine they serve no purpose and are therefore unimportant.

Dr. Doug’s gift to Emily was two-fold. His talents as doctor and diagnostician were important in healing her. But there were others with similar gifts who had been there before him, had been given the same opportunity, but had done nothing with it. His real gift to her was the gift of time. Dr. Doug took the time to try to understand her situation.

Each time we meet a person, we are called, like Dr. Doug, to experience them anew. Each person brings to an encounter their own set of circumstances: the grumpy senior may be suffering with a painful, chronic disease; the fellow employee who seemed to ignore our greeting may have had a rough morning with a challenging child; the unfriendly store clerk may have just lost a parent or been advised of an upcoming layoff.

As Christian Stewards, our gift of time to others takes the form of building relationships, nurturing others, and, each time we meet another, looking at them with new eyes and an open heart.

Dear God: Help me see each person I meet today with fresh eyes and an open heart.

“(Bias) is the worst disease from which the society of our nation suffers.”

~Albert Einstein, German born American Physicist, Nobel Prize for Physics 1921 (1879-1955)

© 2011 James E. Carper.  All rights reserved.

“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, Director of Development for Southeast Ventura County YMCA.  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.