When the World Seems Like a Terrible Place

I recall sitting with a woman a few years ago whose only son had unexpectedly died. I had sat in the same place a couple of years before when her husband had passed away. Of course, the loss of her son was opening the old wound, not yet nearly healed, caused by her husband’s death.

With tear-filled eyes and pursed lips she lamented, “Oh, how terrible life can be! Isn’t this world a terrible place?”

What could I say? On the one hand, I believe that the world can be a wonderful and enchanting place. There are times of fun and joy and happiness. 

On the other hand, and especially for her right then, the world was indeed a terrible place. Family she dearly loved were ripped from her life. She faced the prospect of countless days filled with heartache and endless nights of loneliness. Such grief cannot be dismissed with a quick, “Oh, it will be all right. You’ll be fine.” Or, “Don’t worry, he’s in a better place.” Regardless of whether or not these statements hold any truth, to minimize her feelings of loss at that moment would have done her a great disservice. More than anything, she needed someone to understand her pain and confusion.

“I know, this is really difficult,” I finally said, taking her hand. “I’m sorry.”

She eventually did get through both losses. It was far from easy and took plenty of time, but with help from her friends and hope from her faith she was able put her life back together. She was able to laugh and sing again.

When the world seems like a terrible place, I think it is good to remember a few things. Such as not to blame yourself for something that may not be your fault. The death of a family member is a good example. “If only I had seen what was going on.” “If only I had been there.” “If only I had encouraged him more to go see a doctor or a counselor.” If onlys assume you have power in somebody’s life that you simply don’t have. There are some things which are beyond your control. 

And don’t beat yourself up because you think you ought to feel better. You’ll heal in your own time and there’s no sense in “feeling bad about feeling bad.”

It also helps to remember that  you will get through this thing, even if you don’t think so at the time. One widowed woman remarked to me six months after her spouse’s death, “I used to have more bad days than good days. Now I have more good days.” She added that she believed she would never get over her loss, but she said, “I know I can get through it.”

And remember that you are not isolated. There may be nothing more helpful than reaching out to others when you hurt. It is also important to draw on your spiritual resources. In very many ways, you are not alone.

Pain and suffering, from time to time, will inevitably take up residence in your life as unwelcome guests. You can’t ignore their presence. They’ll break stuff and mess everything up and, when they finally leave, you will have to put it all back together the best you can. But leave a space for joy to move back in. Joy may have left, but it’s not far away.

And when it moves back in, your world will be a much better place.

-- Steve Goodier

Image:flickr.com/Joe Penna

Greater Strengths and Lesser Strengths

If you’re like most of us, failure is not your best friend. But I like the attitude of one man. “I don’t say I have strengths and weaknesses,” he says. “I say I have strengths and lesser strengths.” That’s me! Lots and lots of strengths... but a great many of them are lesser strengths.

One of my lesser strengths may be in the area of art. But when my three-year-old son asked me to draw a picture of a horse on his chalkboard, I agreed anyway. And it wasn’t too bad. Well, it wasn’t great, I must admit. It may have looked a little more like a dog than a horse. But it was definitely a horse-looking animal of some sort and my young son seemed satisfied.  

I left the picture on the chalkboard. The next day one of his preschool friends stopped by to play. She spotted the drawing and asked, “Who drew the horse?” 

I called down the hall, “I did!” I actually felt just a little bit proud. After all, she immediately recognized it as a horse.

There was a moment of silence as a look of confusion swept her face. Then she asked, “Did you draw it when you were a baby?”

Everyone’s an art critic.

My son’s friend just couldn’t square such a childish line drawing with somebody my age. Sure, I’d starve as an artist, but I don’t have to excel as one. I have other strengths, other skills, other abilities. And I can enjoy good art while I spend time doing whatever it is I am meant to do. 

I appreciate Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s perspective. He said, “Give what you have. To some it may be better than you dare to think.” I don’t need to beat myself up over all the things I do miserably. I learned years ago to make peace with those things. What others call weaknesses I call lesser strengths and look at them as nothing more than opportunities to learn.

In the meantime, I’ll give what I can and trust that will be enough.

-- Steve Goodier

In the Spin Cycle

As Norm said on one episode of the television show Cheers, “We live in a dog eat dog world and sometimes it seems like we have milk bone underwear on.” It can be tough, I know.

An old story tells of a little boy who went into a grocery store and asked for extra strength laundry detergent. As the clerk was finding it, he asked the boy what he wanted to use it for. He said he wanted to give his pet rat a bath.

The clerk replied, “Well, I think that this detergent is a bit strong for a rat. I’m not sure that I would use it.”

The child said that he believed it would be all right and the grocer added, “Just be careful. This is awfully strong detergent.”

About a week later, the boy came back. When asked by the grocer how his rat was, he said, “Well, he just sort of walks around in a daze.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” sympathized the clerk. “But I did tell you that the detergent was probably too strong.”

“Oh, I really don’t think it was the detergent,” the boy replied. “I believe it was the spin cycle that did it.”

Do you ever feel as if you have been through the spin cycle? Maybe even hung out to dry? Living through pain and suffering is like going through the spin cycle. Often our pain is physical, the result of illness or injury. But more often we suffer from emotional pain like loss, fear, worry, rejection, loneliness, guilt or depression. In either case, sometimes we feel as if we have been through the spin cycle.

We sometimes long for a world with no pain, no problems, no obstacles, no disappointments, no hurts, no handicaps, no troubles. We wish our bodies might always run like fine-tuned machines – no permanent breakdowns, no serious illness – purring along forever, or at least until they quickly and painlessly cease to function altogether (and, of course, at the time of our choosing). We might crave a world where loss is unknown, loneliness unheard of and all things unpleasant somehow banished.

But the truth is, we live in a world with pain. And we all experience our share. We can run, but we can’t hide from suffering. It will always find us. And should we even try to run from it? For as much as we hate going through tough times - the spins cycles of life - even hardships help us to grow. It’s amazing, but our most difficult times can serve this valuable purpose.

Helen Keller, without sight or hearing, suffered her share of pain. But after many years of anger and hostility toward her “solitary confinement,” she was eventually able to say, “I thank God for my handicaps. For through them, I have found myself, my work and my God.”

I don’t know if you can give thanks for your sufferings, but can you accept them as the indispensable teachers they are? Can you embrace trouble as a necessary (if unwelcome) part of life? The spin cycles we inevitably go through are not the problem; getting stuck in them is the problem. Find your way through and you just may come out stronger than ever.

-- Steve Goodier

Learn To Love Them

Are you ever frustrated with people you care about? Are you more frustrated because it seems as if they just won’t change?

A man tried everything he could think of to eradicate the weeds in his lawn. Finally, in desperation, he wrote to his local department of agriculture, asking advice and listing every method he had tried.

He received a reply back. It said, “We suggest you learn to love them!”

The same could be said about marriage and friendship. We may feel exasperated by the faults and idiosyncrasies of others. We believe the relationship would be perfect if only they would change that annoying habit or correct that irritating behavior.

So we embark on a campaign to “get rid of the weeds” – to get someone we care about to change. We may nag and cajole and plead and bribe. And in the end, we feel frustrated because they are still the same.

The truth is, we cannot, and should not, attempt to eradicate the “weeds” we find in others’ lives. We can never change others. They can change, but we can’t change them. The will to change must come from within themselves. Rather, our task is simply to learn to love them, weeds and all.

Isn’t this the way we want them to treat us? And besides, like a lovely garden, they become more attractive to us when we are not focused on the weeds. We might even begin to enjoy them so much that we remember what drew us to them in the first place! -- Steve Goodier

Image: flickr.com/Mathias Liebing

Another Word for Love

I knew a woman who always found an excuse to love.

I met her working at the most difficult job of my life - as a helper in an after-school daycare center. I was completely unprepared for the work; I had no training and my temperament seemed to be particularly unsuited to the position.

I reminded myself that I was hired to watch the children, play with them and lead arts and crafts - not fix all of their problems, of which there were many. And my only help was Mrs. Tucker, a 73-year-old retired social worker who worked with me. All that stood between the kids and disaster was me and a 73-year-old woman. And I wasn't that sturdy a defense. But I soon learned that Mrs. Tucker was a master with these children.

"Some children just need more love," she always said. A case in point  was Timmy. Timmy received special help at school because of his emotional problems. He was developmentally delayed. He often fought  with other children and was a compulsive hair-puller. I could never get close to Timmy - he did not trust anyone. Anyone, that is, except Mrs. Tucker. He responded her. He genuinely loved her because, I came to believe, she loved him.

One day a fight broke out between Timmy and one of the other children. After separating them, Mrs. Tucker directed Timmy to sit in a chair. He screamed, "I HATE YOU, Mrs. Tucker! You're a mean, old lady! I hate you!"

"I know you hate me right now, Timmy," she said firmly, "but I'm sure not going to let you pull the other children's hair."

After a while Timmy had calmed down and Mrs. Tucker called him over. His cheeks were still dirty and bore dried tear streaks. I could not hear their conversation, but I saw Timmy put his arms around her neck. When I walked by I heard him say, "I'm sorry I called you a mean old lady, Mrs. Tucker." I knew he meant it.

A little later Mrs. Tucker said to me, "Timmy just needs more love than other children."

On another occasion I heard Timmy's mother say, "You work magic with him, Mrs. Tucker. He doesn't respond to anybody like he does to you."

Maybe so, but sometimes "magic" is just another word for "love." 

-- Steve Goodier

Image: Flickr.com/Lance Neilson

A Cure for Intolerance

Globe in Hands

We live in an age of intolerance and extremism.

Intolerance is an infectious social disease. It has always been prevalent and is usually spread by fear and misunderstanding. It can infect any kind of group and most any individual. Humorist Mark Twain noticed it in the religious communities of his daytime. He once said that he built a cage and put a cat and a dog in it. After a while they learned to get along. Then he added a bird, a goat and a pig. After some adjustments they, too, got along. Then he added a Baptist, a Presbyterian and a Catholic. Soon there was nothing left alive in the cage.

The disease of intolerance is not communicated only in religious groups. I’ve seen it infect racial groups, economic groups and even whole nations (where it is often cleverly disguised as patriotism). Intolerance always fences people out. It creates one group we call US. And the rest we call THEM.

But intolerance can be cured. Let me give an example. An undated letter to Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. can be found in the archives of The King Center. It was written by a certain Jefferson Poland who spoke about his grandfather. Here is an excerpt of the letter and King’s reply:

Dear Rev. King:
     This is something I think you will want to know.
     A few weeks ago a man in Panama City, Florida, one Ross Mullin, sent you a poem which criticized prejudice.
     This man was my grandfather. He had been against Jews and Negroes almost all his life. When I had gotten thrown in jail for sit-ins, he had been shocked and angered. Finally, after some 60-odd years of hate, he grew to the point where he wrote you that poem. I had not had time to write him of my pride and joy before I got a telegram telling me he is dead….

Dr. King replied:

Dear Mr. Poland,
     This is to acknowledge receipt of your letter of recent date. Your story was indeed moving. It is encouraging to know that it is possible to grow and change after a long heritage of prejudice. Certainly your participation contributed to this growth and understanding on the part of your grandfather….

His grandfather had been infected with the disease of intolerance. But his grandson showed him a different way and, to his credit, he was cured. As Nelson Mandela said, “No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin, or his background, or his religion. People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite.”

There is a cure for intolerance. It requires learning a different way. A better way. The cure for intolerance is to recognize a fundamental truth about humanity: there is no US and THEM. The construct of US and THEM is entirely artificial. It is not real. There is only WE. One world. One people. One family. Only WE.

We can cure the disease of intolerance. We must do it if the world is to survive.

No us. No them.

Just we.

-- Steve Goodier

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How Do You Know the Night Has Passed?

Many years ago Bertrand Russell, the English philosopher and mathematician, was imprisoned for opposing World War I. "When I reported to the warder," Russell said, "he asked me the customary questions - name, age, place of residence. Then he inquired, 'Religious affiliation?'”

Russell replied, "Agnostic."

The poor man looked up. "How do you spell that?"

He spelled it for him. The warder wrote the word carefully on the admission form, then sighed, "Oh, well; there are a great many sects, but I suppose they all worship the same God."

I'm sure Russell could not help but chuckle.

It is true, however, that there exist many spiritual paths. The world has always teemed with a wide variety of spiritual thought and many differing journeys of the heart. But too often the world has used these differences as a weapon. How much agony has been wrought by what should be a thing of beauty - religious passion?

I appreciate an old Jewish story that tells of a rabbi who asked his disciples, "How do you know when the night is giving way and the morning is coming?"

One of the followers stood and said, "Teacher, won't you know that night is fading when, through the dim light, you can see an animal and recognize whether it is a sheep or a dog?"

The rabbi answered, "No."

"Rabbi," asked another, "won't you know that the dawn is coming when you can see clearly enough to distinguish whether a tree is a fig or an olive?"

"No," responded the teacher. "You'll know that the night has passed when you can look at any man and any woman and discern that you are looking at a brother or a sister. Until you can see with that clarity, the night will always be with us."

The night has been long. Isn't it time for dawn to break? No matter who we are, no matter what religion we profess, isn't it time for us to see one another as the sisters and brothers we are? All of us? Only then will we know that night has passed and a new day has dawned.

-- Steve Goodier

Image: freeimages.com/Emin Ozkan 

Losing the Desire to Judge

Image by Ahmed Al-Shukaili

“Whenever I dwell for any length of time on my own shortcomings,” says writer Margaret Halsey, “they gradually begin to seem mild, harmless, rather engaging little things, not at all like the staring defects in other people's characters.” That's funny, and more true than I care to admit. It must have been so with members of the US Congress in the early 20th Century. Many of them seemed less concerned with their own piddling shortcomings and preferred to wail about a staring defect in the senator from the state of Utah, Reed Smoot. So outraged were they, Smoot almost was not seated in the senate.

Reed Smoot was a leader in the Mormon (LDS) Church and, back in those days, his church was accused of secretly allowing the practice of plural marriages (polygamy). Although Smoot had only one wife, some of the more sanctimonious members of the senate argued that he should not be seated, given the beliefs of his church.

But the issue was settled when Senator Boies Penrose of Pennsylvania strode to the podium and looked directly at some of his colleagues who, though married, were known to “womanize.” He stated emphatically, “As for me, I would prefer to have seated beside me in the Senate a polygamist who doesn’t polyg than a monogamist who doesn’t monog.” End of matter.

I understand there are times we have to be discerning. But I don't want to be known as a judging person. There is good and bad in all of us and I have plenty to work on in my own life.
  
Besides, I think Mother Teresa got it right when she said: “If you judge people, you have no time to love them.  And, it should be added, if you love people, you have no desire to judge them. Substitute the word “love” with the words “understand” or “know,” and it works just as well. If you understand people, if you know them, truly know them, you have no desire to judge them.

Losing the desire to judge – now that can change a life.

– Steve Goodier 

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We Are Meant to Be One

Where is true peace to be found? Archbishop Desmond Tutu might say it can be found in the African concept of “ubuntu.”

He says, "Ubuntu is a concept that we have in our Bantu languages at home. Ubuntu is the essence of being a person. It means that we are people through other people. We cannot be fully human alone. We are made for interdependence, we are made for family. When you have ubuntu, you embrace others. You are generous, compassionate.”

He also says that if the world had more ubuntu, there would be no war. The powerful would help the weak. That is where peace is to be found.

A story from World War II shines a spotlight on ubuntu. In 1942, the American consul ordered citizens home from the Persian Gulf, for fear they might get caught in the spreading conflict. Travel was difficult, and some civilians secured passage on the troop ship Mauretania. Passengers included thousands of Allied soldiers, 500 German prisoners of war and 25 civilian women and children.

The ship traveled slowly and cautiously, constantly in danger from hostile submarines patrolling the ocean depths. It was Christmas Eve and they had traveled for a full two months. They had only made it as far as the coastal waters of New Zealand and all on board were homesick, anxious and frightened. 

Someone came up with the idea of asking the captain for permission to sing Christmas carols for the German prisoners, who were surely as homesick and lonely as the passengers. Permission was granted and a small choral group made its way to the quarters where the unsuspecting prisoners were held. They decided to sing “Silent Night” first, as it was written in Germany by Joseph Mohr and was equally well known by the prisoners.

Within seconds of beginning the carol, a deafening clatter shook the floor. Hundreds of German soldiers sprang up and crowded the tiny windows in order to better see and hear the choristers. Tears streamed unashamedly down their faces. At that moment, everyone on both sides of the wall experienced the universal truth – that at the core of our being, all people everywhere are one. They experienced ubuntu. Hope and love broke down the barriers between warring nations and, for that moment at least, all were one family.

We are meant to be one. And only after we realize that amazing truth can we find what we need – true peace. 

-- Steve Goodier

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