The Gift of Touch

Are you meeting a friend for lunch? In a famed study, a researcher observed how many times friends touched each other while sitting at a cafe. He collected data around the world. In Mexico City, couples touched each other 185 times. In Paris, 115 times. In London, not at all. In Gainesville, Florida, twice.

There are obvious cultural differences in communication styles, but studies agree that touching is important to human development. Therapist Ranjan Patel observed the touching behavior of couples who came to him for counseling. He noted that touch “is the stuff that builds intimate trust and loudly declares, ‘I care about you, you’re important to me, I want to give to you, I want to be close to you.’ Touch says, ‘I’m willing to risk being vulnerable.’” 

And psychologist Wayne Dennis observed a group of babies in an orphanage where they were given practically no stimulation, including touch. Most laid on their backs all day in bare cribs placed in bare rooms. They were touched only when their diapers were changed. At the end of one year, the children’s development was about that of a six-month-old. 

Human touch is vital. Without it, we wither. With it, we thrive. And it is good preventive medicine. It is simpler to hold a hand than to hold a medical consultation. A hanging head needs a shoulder under it. A back rub can be the easiest way to get a “monkey off someone’s back.” And the best way to help somebody to keep their chin up is by lifting it with a gentle hand.

One of the best gifts you can give another may be an encouraging touch. And what’s more, it will likely be returned.

-- Steve Goodier

Image: flickr.com/lrutherford03

Stay Together

Stay Together

Our streets are less trafficked these days. Places of business have fewer customers. Many are closed. These are strange times in which we’re living. Most countries have policies in place for the protection of citizens from COVID-19, the coronavirus that is making its way through our populations. Unfortunately, these policies separate us from one another. We may avoid the disease of COVID-19 only to suffer from isolation and, in some cases, loneliness.

I’m reminded of a funny story about a tour group whose bus let them off across the street from a famous basilica surrounded by several lanes of relentless traffic. They spread out along the curb to try to cross the street when there was a break in the traffic. Some were darting out when they spotted their opportunity.

“Stay together!” the frantic tour guide shouted. “Stay together! "You cross one by one, they hit you one by one. But if you cross together, they think you will hurt the car!"

I think that is good advice in these unusual times. The best thing we can do is to stay together. It means helping out somebody who is out of work. It means sharing with someone who needs what you have - food, supplies or even some of your time. Stay together. 

We work so hard to keep ourselves safe. Staying away from others. Washing our hands. It’s easy to forget that the most important thing we humans can ever do is to reach out to each other. Just a phone call that says, “I’m thinking about you. How can I help?” Stay together.

I love bouquets of roses. But the reality is that they won’t last long without roots. Cut flowers die. And when I’m cut off from others, I die a little on the inside every day. So we need to stay connected.. Especially at this time - stay together.

Who needs you today?

-- Steve Goodier

Image: flickr.com/Brian Evans

Somebody’s Got Your Back

Author Jack Canfield said, “Human beings are not designed to go through life alone. No one has to bear the burden of tough times all by themselves.”

A television nature program captured an image of this idea well. It was an episode about a baby bear.

The cub was one of two babies born to a mother black bear, but his sibling died in childbirth. Not too long afterward, Mama Bear also died. The little cub was left alone to fend in the world.

But he was fortunate. He soon came across a huge male black bear who took a liking to the little guy. By the end of the day the adoption papers were signed and the little cub had a new friend and father. 

Papa Bear showed the cub how to forage for berries. He taught him which plants he could eat and which to leave alone. He showed him how to fish. Papa Bear taught the cub all the things a bear needs to know to get along in the world.

The two were inseparable...until the day they separated. The little cub found himself all alone when a hungry mountain lion crept up. The two locked eyes and terror ran through the bear’s heart. So he did the only he knew to do, the thing Papa Bear had taught...he rose up on his hind legs, showed teeth and claws, looked his enemy right in the eye and roared a fierce roar. Well, it wasn’t really a roar at all, but a tiny squeak. 

The camera panned back to the mountain lion who must have been amused at the little guy, and was surely preparing to enjoy a tasty lunch. The audience expected the lion to pounce any second. But something strange happened. A look of fear crossed the cougar’s face, he slowly backed off a few steps and then turned and bounded away.

The camera panned back to the frightened cub and now the audience could see what the little bear could not. Behind the cub, but not too far back, stood Papa Bear - up on his hind legs, all teeth and claws, with a deadly gleam in his eye. He didn’t growl, but then he didn’t have to. The lion got the message.

I love the image of the powerful black bear, ready to go to battle for a vulnerable cub. And that is an image I always want to keep in mind. No matter how helpless, frightened or vulnerable we feel, there is a strong and mighty force just behind us. That force is made up of people who watch out for us. Family and friends, children and colleagues and even strangers. There are more people behind you and me, ready to step in when needed, than we may ever know. 

We don’t have to go through this world all alone. And sometimes we will need extra help. We may need people to pull us through, to watch our backs or just to stand by.

Who’s got your back? Will you let them help?

-- Steve Goodier 

Image: FreeImages.com/Paul Flores

A Life that Makes a Difference

“How do you account for your remarkable accomplishment in life?” Queen Victoria of England asked Helen Keller. “How do you explain the fact that even though you were both blind and deaf, you were able to accomplish so much?”

Ms. Keller’s answer is a tribute to her dedicated teacher. “If it had not been for Anne Sullivan, the name of Helen Keller would have remained unknown.”

“Little Annie” Sullivan, as she was called when she was young, was no stranger to hardship. She was almost sightless herself, due to a childhood infection at the age of five. Her mother died three years later and her father left the children when she was ten. She and her younger brother were sent to an overcrowded home for the destitute where her brother Jimmie died in a couple of months. Little Annie was, at one time, considered hopelessly “insane” by her caregivers and locked in the basement. On occasion, she would violently attack anyone who came near. Most of the time she generally ignored everyone in her presence.

An elderly nurse believed there was hope, however, and she made it her mission to show love to the child. Every day she visited Little Annie. For the most part, the child did not acknowledge the nurse’s presence, but she still continued to visit. The kindly woman left cookies for her and spoke words of love and encouragement. She believed Little Annie could recover, if only she were shown love.

Eventually, doctors noticed a change in the girl. Where they once witnessed anger and hostility, they now noted an emerging gentleness and love. They moved her upstairs where she continued to improve. She was finally released to attend Perkins School for the Blind in Boston, Massachusetts, where she would learn to read and write. She struggled against a multitude of odds but was determined to learn. Anne eventually graduated as valedictorian of her class.

Anne Sullivan grew into a young woman with a desire to help others as she, herself, was helped by the loving nurse. It was she who saw the great potential in Helen Keller. She cared for her, disciplined her, played with her, pushed her, and worked with her until the flickering candle that was her life became a beacon of light to the world. Anne Sullivan worked wonders in Helen’s life, but it was an unknown nurse who first believed in Little Annie and patiently transformed an angry, grief-stricken child into a compassionate teacher.

“If it had not been for Anne Sullivan, the name of Helen Keller would have remained unknown.” But if it had not been for a kind and dedicated nurse, the name of Anne Sullivan would have also remained unknown. And so it goes. Just how far back does the chain of redemption extend? And how for forward will it lead?

Those you have sought to reach, whether they be in your family or elsewhere, are part of a chain of love that can extend through the generations. Your influence on their lives, whether or not you see results, is immeasurable. Your legacy of dedicated kindness and caring can transform lost and hopeless lives for years to come.

Do you want a life that makes a difference? Never overestimate the power of your love. It is a fire that, once lit, may burn forever.

-- Steve Goodier

Filling Up Your Life

We can live a long time without thinking about such things as “meaning” and “purpose” in life. But happy and healthy living requires that we visit these words from time to time

I have heard that Ralph Barton, a cartoonist of a former generation, left this note pinned to his pillow before taking his life: “I have had few difficulties, many friends, great successes; I have gone from wife to wife, and from house to house, visited great countries of the world, but I am fed up with inventing devices to fill up twenty-four hours of the day.”

Whatever psychological problems may have afflicted him, Ralph Barton suffered from an empty life. He tried to fill it up – with relationships and things and busyness. He was no doubt successful in his work. And probably well-liked. His problem was that he felt his life had no meaning.

Educator Morrie Schwartz helps us put meaning into our lives. In Mitch Albom’s book Tuesdays with Morrie, he chronicles the final months of Morrie’s life, as his former teacher slowly dies of Lou Gehrig’s Disease (ALS). Morrie, an irrepressible lover of life, says this: “So many people walk around with a meaningless life. They seem half asleep even when they are busy doing things they think are important. This is the product of chasing the wrong things. The way you get meaning into your life is to devote yourself to loving others, devote yourself to your community around you, and devote yourself to creating something that gives you purpose and meaning.”

Do you want to be happy? Do you want a life that matters? Then spend some extra time caring for those around you. Get busy serving your community. Become a lover of people. I guarantee, your life will never seem empty again.

-- Steve Goodier

How It Feels to Be Hooked

It was the late 1940s. Eastern Airline’s chair, Captain Eddie Rickenbacker, had a problem. Customers were complaining because the airline was mishandling luggage far too often. When nothing else seemed to work, he decided to take drastic action. 

Rickenbacker called a special meeting of the management personnel in Miami. Eastern’s management flew to Miami and was told their baggage would be delivered to their hotel rooms. It wasn’t. Instead, Rickenbacker had the luggage stored overnight.

It was a hot and humid summer and the muggy hotel had no air-conditioning. Various corporate managers showed up to the meeting the next morning unshaven, teeth unbrushed and wearing dirty and wrinkled clothes.

There was no sign of the baggage all that day. But it was delivered that night, at 3:00 a.m., with a loud pounding on hotel room doors.

Rickenbacker opened the next morning’s session by saying, “Now you know how the customer feels when you mishandle his luggage.” He knew his team would be ineffective until his people learned to empathize with their customers. 

Psychiatrist Karl Menninger put it like this: “It is hard for a free fish to understand what is happening to a hooked one.” That is why Rickenbacker wanted his employees, starting with his management team, to experience what it is like to be hooked.

When we understand another’s problem, we will be more effective in business and personal relationships. And if we’re ever hooked ourselves and someone who “gets it” reaches out to help, something wonderful is likely to happen.

-- Steve Goodier

Image: flickr.com/ePi.Longo

Three Messages Heard in Strong Families

Family expert Nick Stinnett said, “When you have a strong family life you receive the message that you are loved, that you are cared for, that you are important. The positive intake of love and affection and respect … gives you inner resources to deal with life more successfully.”

Here is a family that shows us what it is like to receive the messages that you are loved and cared for and that you are important.

Once her kids were in school, one woman decided to go back to school for more education. After several years of hard work and late nights, she finally completed her Master’s Degree program.

Her husband planned a graduation party for her. He invited all of their friends to their home to congratulate his wife on her hard work.

But she turned the tables on him. She got a list of the invitees to her party and called each one. “I’d like to surprise my husband,” she told them. Then she explained what he sacrificed for her to go back to school. He supported her emotionally when she felt like quitting. Much like a single parent, he juggled his own work with picking the children up from school, caring for them in the evenings, shouldering much of the housework and preparing meals for the family. And besides, her education was expensive and the family needed to take out a student loan. “I’d like this to be a surprise party for him instead of a graduation party for me,” she told all of her guests.

So they came with cards and food, all of which he expected. But when he learned that it was all for him, he was stunned! And for her, it turned out to be the greatest graduation party ever.

He told her by his actions and by his willingness to sacrifice that, as Nick Stinnett says, she is loved,  she is cared for and she is important. And this gave her the courage to jump into a demanding program that others may never have attempted.

You are loved...you are cared for...you are important. Where love exists there is warmth. Where everyone’s physical and emotional needs are met, there is safety and security. And where respect for one another is the norm, the mind and spirit can flourish.

It doesn’t get much better than that.

-- Steve Goodier Image: flickr.com/Kannon B

Grow Antennae

A story, which may appropriately belong to the files of “urban legends,” tells about a Philadelphia legal firm that sent flowers to an associate in Baltimore upon the opening of its new offices. Through some mix-up, the ribbon that bedecked the floral piece read, “Deepest Sympathy.”

When the florist was informed of her mistake, she let out a cry of alarm. “Good grief! Then the flowers that went to the funeral said, “Congratulations on Your New Location”!

It is difficult enough to offer comfort without mixing up the sentiment. So difficult, in fact, that many people simply don’t know what to say to someone who has just unburdened grief or emotional pain. Not unlike the new clergyman who, when a distressed young woman confided that she was pregnant, blurted out, “Are you sure it’s yours?”

Too often, we want to help, but find that our attempts to offer comfort, solace or hope fall short of the mark. But there is something we CAN say to those who hurt that can be helpful and comforting.

One man, whose grandson died accidentally, found genuine comfort when he shared his pain with friends shortly after the tragedy. Of all the well-meaning words of support, two statements helped to sustain and comfort him through the grief more than the rest. They were: “Thank you for sharing your pain,” and “I grieve with you.” After hearing those words, he no longer felt alone in his suffering. He felt as if his friends embraced his grief. He felt better.

“Thank you for sharing your pain” is an honest acknowledgment of another’s suffering. It also expresses an appreciation for the effort it takes a wounded soul to open her emotional wounds to others.

“I grieve with you” is an expression of empathy. It is a way of saying that I am willing to share some of your pain, even for a time.

We can’t fix it. We shouldn't try to offer advice. And we may never know how someone feels who is hurting in a way we have never experienced. But we can give some comfort.

I think James Angell, former president of the University of Michigan, got it right when he was asked the secret of his success. “The secret of success?” he replied. “Grow antennae, not horns.”

-- Steve Goodier

Image by Phil Hilfiker

No Wrong Time to Say the Right Thing

A cartoon depicts a woman shaking hands with her clergyman as she leaves the church. The caption says, "Thank you for the sermon. It was like water to a drowning man." Some compliments are better left unsaid....

Isn't it true that words carry with them immense power? Power to build up and power to tear down. Such was the case with the words of Mandy (not her real name), a woman who learned that there is no wrong time to say the right thing.

It was a cold, rainy day in March. Across the room in the retail store where Mandy worked, sat Laura, a woman about Mandy's age. Other workers did not like Laura; they thought of her as snobbish and aloof. And Mandy agreed.

But sweeping the bias from her eyes, she made up her mind to say something kind to Laura. Finally, she managed, "Do you know, Laura, that I've worked in this room with you for several years. And whenever I glance up I see your head silhouetted against the window there behind you. I think you have the prettiest profile and hair that I have ever seen on anybody." Her words were not insincere flattery. She meant it.

Laura looked up and began to cry. "That's the first kind word anybody has ever said to me in all the time I've worked here," she said.

Mandy discovered that Laura's aloofness was not due to snobbishness, but shyness. The two became friends. Other workers soon began to include Laura in their activities, and she blossomed like a flower that, for the first time, found sunlight. The right words, spoken in kindness, made all the difference.

Words carry the potential to tear down or to build up. But when they are both sincere and kind, they are instruments that wield great power. Never underestimate the potential and power of your words. 

There is no wrong time to say the right thing. And there is no better time than now.

-- Steve Goodier

Image: www.flickr.com/freeparking

A Golden Chain of Kindness

Image by Stephen Eastop

Writer and philosopher Johann Wolfgang von Goethe said, "Kindness is the golden chain by which society is bound together." But I was not thinking about a golden chain of kindness one day when a dilapidated automobile, possibly held together with glue and wire, parked in front of the house. During those years, we lived in a small mountain town next to a freeway. Our home was located across the street from the church I served, and travelers in need frequently found their way to our front door, usually aided by townsfolk who pointed out where they might get some assistance.

Let me confess: kindness can be difficult and thankless work. Though the little community generously donated to help with this cause, I grew weary of the numerous strangers who constantly rang my doorbell. My life was busy, my work was demanding and I was tired. I was also beginning to feel “put upon.” One time our property was vandalized by a man I had invited to spend the night in the warmth of the little church; once I drove 30 miles through a hazardous blizzard to carry a couple of hitchhikers to shelter who showed no appreciation for the sacrifice; frequently I was awakened in the middle of the night to get out in the bitter cold and give assistance to someone passing through; too often travelers manipulated or lied or stridently complained that I didn’t give them more.

Not that I need a lot of thanks. But my work with these people was volunteer and I was losing the warm feeling I once had by doing it. At one time I felt I was truly helping. Now I felt stressed and harassed. Early on it seemed like I might be doing some good, but as of late I wondered if that was true.

It seemed as if the golden chain of kindness was broken. Instead of binding me closer to others, I felt increasingly distant.

I also felt guilt for feeling sorry for myself. “I should WANT to be more helpful,” I told myself. I questioned my motives. Am I doing all of this so people will value me, or because there is a need here I can help meet? Is this about me or about them? I still offered assistance where I could, though more than once I silently wished that people wanting something from me would just go away.

But on this day, a young man with a week-old beard climbed from the broken-down automobile. He had no money and no food. He asked if I could give him some work. I offered him some gasoline and a meal. I told him that if he wanted to work, we'd be pleased if he'd cut the grass, but work wasn't necessary.

Though sweaty and hungry, he worked hard. Because of the afternoon heat, I thought he might give up before the job was completed. But he persisted and, after a long while, he sat wearily down in the shade. I thanked him for his work and gave him the money I promised. Then I offered him a little extra for a task particularly well done, but he refused. "No sank you," he said in heavily accented speech. I insisted that he take the money but he stood up and once again said, "No sank you. I want to work. Joo keep the money." I realized his dignity was at stake and thanked him again for the good job.

I never saw that man after he drove away. And interestingly, he probably thought I helped him that day. But that is not the way it was. I’m sure I didn't help him as much as he helped me. In his honesty and sincerity, he reminded me of the innate decency of people. He helped me recall just why I wanted to reach out to strangers in the first place. Something that had almost died inside seemed to wake up. I remembered my real reasons for reaching out and immediately began to feel better…more hopeful, more useful. I believed, again, that the little I was doing could actually make a difference.

This stranger (I don’t even recall his name) helped me to once again WANT to do something for those who are in need. I wish I could thank him for giving me back a little optimism I had lost somewhere along the way. Because of him I felt that once again the golden chain of kindness binding us to one another was restored. We were brothers. I may have fed his body that day. But he fed my soul.

-- Steve Goodier

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A Beautiful Heart

Image by Robert Proska

One grandfather quipped about his grandchildren: "My grandkids are four and six. The Pulitzer Prize winner is four and the brain surgeon is six."

Parents and grandparents are understandably proud of the quick minds and impressive talents of their little ones. But let me tell you about another quality, perhaps even more important. A grandmother wrote to me and told me this story about her four-year-old granddaughter Skylar.

It was Christmastime. Skylar had saved coins in a piggy bank all year and decided to buy presents for her family with her savings. But she also learned from announcements on television about a local homeless shelter called "The Road House." She repeatedly asked her mother what "homeless" meant and why those children needed coats and warm clothes. The concept of people in such physical need deeply affected her.

Skylar’s mother took her to the store to buy Christmas presents. But instead of buying for herself or her family, she decided to use her savings for somebody at the shelter. They learned that there was a little girl staying there about Skylar’s age, and she purchased a warm coat, socks, gloves and crayons for the child. She also wanted to buy her a doll (a "baby," as she called it), but when she discovered she didn't have enough money, she left the doll behind. When Skylar got home, she selected one of her own much-loved dolls to give away. The baby went into a box with the other items.

She could hardly wait for Christmas. Skylar was not thinking about Santa Claus or any presents she might be getting. She was thinking only about going to the shelter and giving her carefully selected gifts to a little girl she had never met.

On Christmas Eve she and her family finally made the trip Skylar had been anticipating for so long. They drove to the shelter. There she presented her Christmas box to a grateful child. She was so filled with joy at truly touching someone else’s life that her family decided to make the journey to the shelter an annual tradition.

"Perhaps it's good to have a beautiful mind, but an even greater gift is to have a beautiful heart," says Nobel Laureate John Nash ("A Beautiful Mind"). He would have appreciated young Skylar’s heart.

Beautiful hearts don’t just happen. Nash calls it a gift, but it’s a gift in the way that faith or hope or love are gifts. And I’m convinced we have each been endowed with a beautiful heart. We may not always see it. We may not even believe it. But it’s a gift that came with birth and, every time we act selflessly, it grows a little.

-- Steve Goodier

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Purveyors of Hope

Are you one?

Have you noticed that you feel better around some people than others? You smile more in their presence and afterward feel a little lighter, a bit more cheerful? I think of those people as “purveyors of hope.” They help me to know that beyond every mountain I face there is a path...even if I can't see it from the valley. I need those kinds of people – those purveyors of hope – in my life.

John Chapman, born in 1774 in Massachusetts, was a great purveyor of hope in his day. In the early 1800's he got in on the opening of land in the Northwest Territory, as it was then called, of the new United States. He found small plots of land suitable for farming and cleared them by hand. He bought fruit seed in Pennsylvania every year and carried it to his many apple orchards, usually on his back.

When the trees were large enough to transplant, he sold them to settlers homesteading the West. Eventually, he had little apple orchards spread around what would become the states of Ohio, Michigan, Illinois and Indiana. Most people forgot, or never knew, his real name, and took to calling him Johnny the Apple Man or Johnny Appleseed.

Johnny was a gentle man with a big vision. He was liked by most people who knew him, the native Indians and white settlers alike. His vision was to spread the goodness of apple trees everywhere people settled. Apples, he believed, gave the promise of harvest and hope that the wilderness would become home. Every tree he grew was a symbol of hope.

Johnny had another curious habit. He loved books, but did not have the means to carry more than two, usually a Bible and a book of inspiration or theology. The books he chose were full of hope. Because Johnny wanted to share his books, he carefully cut chapters out of whatever inspirational book he had available and loaned one or two chapters to families that wanted to read, or simply needed a lift. He'd later swap those chapters for others when he came back through. In this way he spread some hope and encouragement wherever he traveled.

His grave can be found today in Fort Wayne, Indiana. It says, "John Chapman (Johnny Appleseed). He lived for others."

Johnny was a great purveyor of hope. This old world could use a few more of his ilk. You?

-- Steve Goodier

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What People Need Is a Good Listening-To

Image by Yogee B

Two psychiatrists met at their 20th college reunion. One was vibrant and enthusiastic. He looked younger than his years. The other appeared withered and fatigued and walked with the stoop of the aged. "So what's your secret?" the tired-looking psychiatrist asked. "Listening to other people's problems every day, all day long, for years on end, has made an old man of me."

The younger-looking one replied, "Who listens?"

Unfortunately, that is too often a problem with the rest of us, isn't it? Who listens? I mean, REALLY listens?

I received a letter from a woman who lives in New York. She explained that her 22-year-old electrician son Joe went to Manhattan a few days after the September 11, 2001 attacks on the World Trade Center buildings. He wanted to volunteer his time, but discovered that his skills were not needed.

But it turns out that Joe was able to help in a way he never anticipated. For on the train ride home, he sat across from a weary firefighter who was also traveling home from the scene of the disaster. The firefighter was covered in what appeared to be "ground zero" dirt and debris. Though Joe could see bits of rock in the man's hair and noticed that his hands were bloody, what worried the young man most was the look in the firefighter's eyes. They appeared lifeless and dull.

Then the man, apparently in shock, began to talk and Joe listened. Joe soon forgot his own disappointment about not being able to volunteer his skills that day as he listened to the gruesome story the firefighter related.

The man told about retrieving a shoe with a foot inside. Joe listened. He talked about cleaning debris from a face, then discovering that this person's body was gone. Joe continued to listen without flinching. He did not react in disgust. He did not judge. He did not interrupt. He just listened.

He listened as the firefighter lamented about the carnage everywhere and about shoes...there were so many shoes, he said. Everywhere...shoes.

Through it all Joe quietly held the man's attention and listened, which is exactly what the rescue worker needed at that moment. And because he listened, the man continued to speak. He talked his pain out, as much as possible. In the presence of a stranger, he tried to put his world back in order, to make sense of the day's chaos. And Joe, for that time at least, helped him carry his unbelievably heavy burden.

That day Joe did not give blood, nor did he use his electrical skills to help with the relief effort. But he did one of the most important things a human can do for another. He gave a stunned and disheartened man his whole attention, and thereby, in a small but vital way, assisted in the work of setting the world right.

Mary Lou Casey says, "What people really need is a good listening-to." It's not always easy. And, at times, it may not be fun. In fact, listening closely to another often turns out to be difficult work. But day in and day out, attentive listening may be one of the most important and satisfying ways we can spend our time.

It's true. What people really need is a good listening-to.

– Steve Goodier

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Touching Moments

I read that an insurance company survey revealed that spouses who habitually kiss their mates in the morning are projected to live longer than those who don’t. It also indicated that these people may have fewer auto accidents and lose less time at work due to illness. I won’t begin to interpret what all this means, except that it seems that people in intimate relationships seem to be happier and healthier.

But what about that “touching moment” – that kiss or a tender hug? If intimacy is vital, is the simple act of touching another person also important?

I once was asked to give some emotional support to a prisoner who was awaiting trial. I found him in the county jail and he and I visited for a while in a prison conference room. He didn't know me and seemed afraid to let down his defenses. So we talked about nothing more important than how long he may be incarcerated and whether or not he was guilty of the crimes with which he was charged. He shared nothing of his fears at this dark time in his life. I felt as if we had not “connected” in any meaningful way and, after an appropriate length of time, I stood to leave.

On impulse, before I turned away from him I reached for his hands. He grasped mine tightly and dropped his head. Neither of us spoke – we just stood facing each other clasping hands. After a moment, he began to cry. As he sobbed, he continued to hold tightly to my hands. Somehow the connection, the human touch, melted a dam of ice and allowed his emotions to gush forth.

When his sobbing subsided, he wanted to talk. Only this time he spoke of his fear and loneliness and he told me of his concern for his family while he was imprisoned. All the while, he held onto my hands like a drowning man clinging to a life saver. I believe that because of the touch, an act of basic human contact, he felt safe enough to share deeply.

There is power in a caring touch. I knew a woman who went to a massage therapist once a week, even when she felt fine, just because she needed that dose of physical contact. The lack of touch can be one of our greatest impediments to emotional intimacy and happiness.

When film star Marilyn Monroe was asked if she ever felt loved by any of the foster families with whom she lived, she replied, “Once, when I was about seven or eight. The woman I was living with was putting on makeup, and I was watching her. She was in a happy mood, so she reached over and patted my cheeks with her rouge puff... For that moment, I felt loved by her.”

Maybe you are in need of more closeness. And perhaps you know of those who are hungry for some assurance that they are loved by someone and not all alone in this world. Your touch may accomplish what your words can't. And those touching moments can change a life.

– Steve Goodier

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People Matter

Image courtesy of Spekulator

In their book The Big Book of Jewish Humor (HarperCollins, 1981), authors Novak and Waldoks tell of a woman from New York who, on her 80th birthday, decided to prepare her last will and testament. She went to her rabbi to make two final requests. First, she insisted on cremation.

“What is your second request?” the rabbi asked.

“I want my ashes scattered over the Bloomingdale’s store.”

“Why Bloomingdale’s?”

“Then I’ll be sure that my daughters visit me twice a week.”

I know we can't ensure others will show they care in the way we expect, though we all want to know that people do care. Maybe it's about being assured that we are not alone in this world. For that reason, we are drawn to those who make us feel as if we matter.

My grandmother was such a person. She was someone who made me feel important to her. She lived far away, so visits were special. When we got together she acted as if she truly missed me. Some days she would slip me little gifts – like chewing gum, a homemade cookie or money “so you can buy yourself a treat.” She once whispered that I was her favorite. (I now have evidence that she said the same thing to each of her grandchildren, which still causes me to chuckle.) She made the effort to be present at the important times in my life.

I felt valued by her. She took me seriously. At age eight or nine I complained one day that I had trouble breathing and I said that I thought my nasal passage was somehow blocked. She actually put her finger up my nose to feel for an obstruction. (Did I mention she was blind?) There was a blockage and because of her intervention with my family I eventually saw a doctor and had corrective surgery.

I don't remember her ever telling me how much she cared about me. It just wasn't her way. She wasn't gushy and she didn't often say those things to people. But she told me how she felt in a different way – she noticed me. She paid attention to me. I felt as if I were a piece in her life puzzle and she would notice if I were missing or didn't fit in just right. And my awareness of this made a huge difference.

Poet Maya Angelou writes:

“People will forget what you said
People will forget what you did
But people will never forget how you made them feel.”

I wonder what would happen if I set out to make everyone in my presence feel as I felt around my grandmother – like they matter. How would that change the way I treat others and what difference might it make to them?

Who doesn't want to know that we notice them and value them? And who might respond to us better when they feel that they matter?

It probably cannot be overstated – it matters...that people matter.

-- Steve Goodier

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Where There's a Need

flickr/Linda Tanner

I found myself stopped at an intersection on a wintery day. Strong arctic wind battered my car. I spotted a young woman who stood alongside the street rubbing her bare hands together and dancing in place to keep warm. Beside her rested a sign that read, "I have a baby and no food." Her face showed she had been crying, likely from the pain of the bitter wind.

Homeless and unemployed people are a common sight in many of our larger cities, and most motorists drive by without offering assistance. They have no doubt been taught that giving money fosters a dependent lifestyle, or the ready cash may be used to purchase alcohol or drugs rather than the food for which it was intended. Like me, they may have been taught that money is best given to a local charity or through one's faith community, as these institutions often have excellent programs to help those in need.

And though this is true, I sometimes recall a humorous story about two college students who encountered a homeless man on a sidewalk. One of the students took a couple of dollars from his wallet and handed it to the unfortunate stranger. His friend commented, "Why did you do that? He's just going to spend it on booze or drugs." The young man answered, "Yeah...like, we're not?"

On that icy day as I waited for the light to turn, I felt conflicted about that young woman. I figured she was probably staying at one of the women’s shelters in the area and wondered if her baby was there now, as there was no child in sight. Should I give her money? She was obviously in need. And whether or not she actually had a baby at all really didn't matter. I gave up guessing people's motives and analyzing their stories long ago. It was cold. She was cold. And she apparently felt she had to be there.

What should I do? How could I help? What was best?

As I wrestled with these questions, a window rolled down from the car in front of me and a hand shot out holding a warm pair of gloves. The driver had taken her own gloves off and gave them to the shivering woman. I saw the young woman mouth the words "Thank you" as a broad smile lit up her face.

It occurred to me that, as I debated, somebody else helped. As I hesitated, someone else acted. As I tried to decide the BEST way to assist, somebody else just did what she could. In other words, as I did nothing, someone else did SOMETHING.

I made myself a pledge that day to always try to do SOMETHING. And I’m not just talking about giving money. I’m not even talking about the homeless, necessarily. Where there’s a need, there’s an opportunity. So I promised myself that, whenever or wherever I spotted a need, I would try to do SOMETHING.

Educator Leo Buscaglia said, "Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around." Even speaking, listening, and noticing -- they may not seem like much, but they are something. And the smallest act of kindness carries great power within.

I don’t want to underestimate what I CAN do. Where there’s a need, there’s an opportunity.  My action may not turn a life around, but it can make some kind of difference. And I’ll trust that the something I do, no matter how small, will be better than the nothing I might have done.

-- Steve Goodier


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One of the Best Things I Can Do with My Lips

I am told that the muscles of the face are capable of over 250,000 different combinations of expressions. And one of the most useful is a smile. And though I’m a fan of kissing, I appreciate that smiling is still one of the best things I can do with my lips.

Sometimes I hear or read something that is so true I know I will never forget it. One of those gems is an observation from Fulton J. Sheen, who said, “A smile across the aisle of a bus in the morning could save a suicide later in the day.” Over the years, I’ve come to realize the magnitude and truth in that statement. People NEED the healing medicine of the heart that just a smile, even from strangers, provides. In fact, we all need it. And for some folks, that medicine can save a life.

One psychiatrist puts it like this. Dr. Thomas Malone, of Atlanta, Georgia, says, “In my practice at the Atlanta Psychiatric Clinic, people sometimes ask me what psychiatry is all about. To me, the answer is increasingly clear. Almost every emotional problem can be summed up in one particular bit of behavior -- it's a person walking around screaming, ‘For God's sake, love me!’ Love me, that’s all. He goes through a million different manipulations to get somebody to love him.” (Thanks to Dr. James Moore for the quote.)

I think he says something I need to hear. He is saying that at the core of our being is a need for someone to care. And if that itch is not scratched, we go to great lengths to satisfy it.

But I’ve noticed something else, too. It appears to me that some of the healthiest people around seem to spend less time trying to scratch an itch to be loved, and more time looking for people to reach out to. These are the ones who are most likely to smile across the aisle of a bus. They understand that everyone is fighting some kind of battle, even if they hide it well. And if they were to express their personal life mission, it might include something like, “I try to always love the people I encounter along life’s path.”

They never say they can't make a difference. They never say they have nothing to contribute. They always know that, even if they have nothing else, they can always give a smile, spontaneously and sincerely. A smile may not seem like much, but it can be a warm blanket on a cold night. And for a while, anyway, if can soothe the itch to be loved.

My smile may not save a life, but it might save a day. And if not, it’s still one of the best things I can do with my lips.

-- Steve Goodier

Image: flickr.com/Thomas Hawk

Do-Overs

Even if you’re not from Washington D.C. you may have heard of former Mayor Anthony Williams. He has a remarkable story. Williams was born to an unwed teen who gave him up. He was known as a "problem child" in foster care. By age three, little Anthony had still never spoken a word. It seemed that a pattern for his life was set, that is, until two warm and caring people took a chance on him.

Anthony was taken in by an opera-singing postal clerk and her equally generous-hearted husband. He soon began to speak and eventually thrived in their home. He excelled academically and later attended both Harvard and Yale Universities.

In 1998, he came from obscurity to win 66% of the vote to become mayor in one of the world’s major cities. In his inaugural address, Williams said: "Forty-four years ago, my parents adopted me and gave me a second chance. I feel this city has now adopted me and I will give to it everything my parents taught me about love, service, commitment."

It’s no doubt that, had he never been adopted into his particular family, his life would have been wholly different. He was saved by a second chance. And haven’t each of us been given second chances? He got a do-over on his birth family. Haven’t we been given do-overs on relationships, jobs, blown opportunities and the like? Quite often second chances are the result of the generosity of someone who cares a great deal. And sometimes we are saved by those second chances.

Author Dr. Seuss says in his book The Lorax, "Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It's not."

I recently came across a story of a young American woman who was saved by a do-over. During the second World War, she lost her husband. He died in India of a tropical disease and she became despondent. In time, despair turned into depression and she lost all interest in living. She just didn’t care anymore.

She booked passage on a ship back to America. On the voyage, she became acquainted with a seven-year-old boy who, like her, was all alone. His parents had died in the fighting in Burma. He seemed to want to be with the young woman, but her pain would not allow it. She wanted nothing to do with him and avoided him whenever possible. She felt so ravaged by loss, that she was unable to get outside of herself and care about anyone else. And she certainly did not have the energy to take on someone else’s problems.

Then one night the ship was torpedoed. The young woman made her way to the deck and prepared herself to go down with the doomed vessel. Some part of her actually welcomed it as an escape from her pain. The child, too, came on deck. He shivered with cold and fright. When he spotted the woman, he came over and clung to her.

That was when a lump of ice melted somewhere deep inside her. She put her arms around the child and led him to one of the lifeboats. For several days, as they waited to be rescued, she held him and he held her. Years later her friends would say that they didn’t know whether the woman saved the boy, or the boy saved the woman. They each gave the other a second chance at life and a do-over on love.

"Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It's not."

But it’s the people who give do-overs who truly change the world.

-- Steve Goodier

Image: flickr.com/Radoslaw Kut

'Ohana Means Family

Two men met at a bus stop and struck up a conversation. One of them complained of family problems.

Finally, the other man said, "You think you have family problems? Listen. A few years ago I met a young widow with a grown-up daughter, and we got married. Later my father married my stepdaughter. That made my stepdaughter my stepmother and my father became my stepson. Also, my wife became mother-in-law of her father-in-law.

"Then the daughter of my wife, my stepmother, had a son. This boy was my half-brother because he was my father's son, but he was also the son of my wife's daughter, which made him my wife's grandson. That made me the grandfather of my half-brother.

"This was nothing until my wife and I had a son. Now the half-sister of my son, my stepmother, is also the grandmother. This makes my father the brother-in-law of my child, whose stepsister is my father's wife. I'm my stepmother's brother-in-law, my wife is her own child's aunt, my son is my father's nephew and I'm my own grandfather. Now – tell me about your family problems."

I don’t know if sorting out your family is a problem. A bigger issue for many of us is that we want more from family life than just knowing who's who, and more than we’re presently getting.

One of the most common complaints I hear from families is that they are not close. They may be close in proximity, but still not feel close as a family. They may live next door or even in the same house, but feel more like strangers.

Hawaiians have a powerful word for family: ‘ohana. In 'ohana, people matter. And they know it. As Lilo says in "Lilo and Stitch, "’Ohana means family. Family means no one is left behind - or forgotten." Families that value closeness work hard to keep anyone from feeling left behind or forgotten.

In my family, closeness is not so much about latitude as about attitude. We live far apart from one another, so we need a willingness to do what it takes. We feel closest when we feel understood, when we feel loved and when we look forward to time we can spend together. When we succeed, no one feels left behind – or forgotten.

A reader in Hawaii once wrote to tell me that the CEO of one of the state's largest banks was considering a run for governor. Since he was well-liked, he seemed to have a good chance of winning.

But, before filing papers, he changed his mind, stating that he wanted to spend more time with his family. Not that elected officials can't be family-oriented, but he reasoned he needed more time at home than the job allowed.

Ronald A. Young, in the "Honolulu Advertiser," praised the decision. "No matter what you accomplish in the business world or the social world," he said, "if you fail 'ohana, then you have not accomplished much. Failure or success does not lie in the material wealth you provide them. It is measured by what of yourself you give to them."

And that’s the question, isn’t it? What of myself do I give to them? What am I willing to give to ‘ohana? Because no one should be left behind – or forgotten.

-- Steve Goodier

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Do You Know a Hero?

Not every Marine is a hero. During field training exercises at Parris Island, South Carolina, one drill instructor threw a pine cone among the recruits and yelled, “Grenade!” The trainees immediately turned away and hit the ground. “Just as I suspected,” chided the drill instructor. “Not a hero among you! Didn’t anyone want to jump on that grenade to save the others?”

A little later the instructor tossed another pine cone and yelled, “Grenade!” This time, all the recruits but one jumped on the “explosive.”

“Why are you still standing there?” the DI demanded.

“Sir,” the recruit replied, “someone had to live to tell about it.”

Not everyone is a hero. But then, not every hero jumps on grenades, pulls terrified children from burning buildings, or wears an impressive uniform.

Do you know a hero? I am not asking you to simply name a favorite celebrity. There is a difference.

Do you know a hero? I think perhaps you do. Heroes, you see, can be found in some of the most unexpected places. I knew a young mother who was slowly dying of cancer, yet she put aside her pain long enough every day to smile and laugh with her children. She tried hard every day to bring sunshine into the gloomy hospital room when her family was present. And I watched her husband fill the roles of single parent and financial provider, and still spend every remaining moment sitting at his mate’s bedside, valiantly encouraging and offering whatever hope he could muster.

I knew a talented teacher who could have worked at a far more lucrative profession, yet was determined to stay in a disadvantaged school in the hope that she could make a difference in a difficult situation. She did it for her students.

I’ve known other heroes, too.

You may have noticed – many of the world’s true heroes will never be confused with action figures. Most have never been to battle, competed athletically nor sung in a pop band. But they have faced nearly impossible challenges with unimaginable determination and courage. They found what it takes to bear the unbearable, forgive the unforgivable, love the unlovable, outlast the unendurable or defeat the undefeatable. And often they do it for the sake of others.

Do you know a hero? Maybe one lives in your home. And perhaps one even looks back at you from the mirror. For it is in everyday battles of the spirit that true wars are fought and won. And it is those real-life heroes who give the rest of us hope and remind us that anything is possible.

Do you know a hero? I think you do.

-- Steve Goodier

freeimages.com/Ben Smith