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

A Conspiracy of Love

Almost a century ago, two young medical school graduates, along with their doctor father, tried an important experiment. They built a small sanitarium on a farm outside Topeka, Kansas (USA). This was a time when the "rest cure" was in vogue as a treatment for psychiatric disorders as well as for a few physical ailments. Oftentimes patients were sent to impersonal institutions where they might remain their entire lives.  

The doctors were Charles Menninger and his sons Karl and William. The Menningers had a different idea. Their sanitarium would not be impersonal. They were determined to create a loving, family atmosphere among their patients and staff. Their vision was to grow a community of doctors, nurses and support staff that would cooperate to heal patients; a place where a patient’s mental health would be as important as her physical health.

To this end, nurses were given special training and were told, "Let each person know how much you value them. Shower these people with love." Rather than being sent to a place where they were warehoused for life, many of the patients received more love and kindness at the Menninger Sanitarium than they had ever experienced before.

The treatment worked - spectacularly. The experiment was a resounding success and the Menninger's revolutionary approach to healing and their radical (for that daytime) methods became world famous.

Karl Menninger later wrote numerous books and became a leading figure in American psychiatry. "Love cures people,” Menninger wrote, “both the ones who give it and the ones who receive it.” His work demonstrated just how true that statement is.

Essayist Hamilton Wright Mabie said, “Blessed is the season which engages the whole world in a conspiracy of love.” I'm attracted to that phrase... conspiracy of love. For many people around the world, Christmas is such a season. This time of year is an annual celebration where folks agree to put aside destructive differences and toxic behavior and allow love to take center stage. When that happens, it can be a beautiful thing. And even more beautiful if the season can truly engage the whole world in such a conspiracy.

I would like to be part of the plot. And not only for a season. If enough of us join together, the movement will become an irresistible and unstoppable force for good.

Spiritual writer Emmett Fox put it like this:

There is no difficulty that enough love will not conquer.

No disease that enough love will not heal.
No door that enough love will not open.
No gulf that enough love will not bridge.
No wall that enough love will not throw down.
No sin that enough love will not redeem.

What could happen if you let each person in your life know how much you value them? What might happen if you were to, as Menninger says, shower everyone with love? And not just friends and family, though they may need to hear it from you. But everyone? Especially those hardest to love?

Does it sound unrealistic? Maybe it is. But remember, love cures people. And it can cure a world.

The only real question is, will you join the conspiracy?

-- Steve Goodier

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You Are a Work of Art

But you may have to be broken before you're finished...

Edward Fischer writes in Notre Dame Magazine (February, 1983), that a leper in Fiji (or, more correctly, a sufferer of Hansen’s Disease) followed the leading of his twisted hands. He became an internationally known artist. “My sickness I see as a gift of God leading me to my life’s work,” he said. “If it had not been for my sickness, none of these things would have happened.”

As a young girl, Jessamyn West had tuberculosis. She was so sick that she was sent away to die. During that time she developed her skill as a writer and authored numerous novels in her lifetime.

That great author Flannery O’Connor suffered various ailments – lupus struck her at 25 and she walked only with the aid of crutches for the final fourteen years of her life. She noted, however, that this illness narrowed her activities in such a way that she had time for the real work of her life, which was writing.

Some people succeed in spite of handicaps. Others succeed because of them. I am not telling you anything new when I say that our problems help to make us what we are. Those who suffer often learn the value of compassion. Those who struggle often learn perseverance. And those who fall down often teach others how to rise again. Our troubles can shape us in ways a carefree existence cannot.

A story is told of an Eastern village that, through the centuries, was known for its exquisite pottery. Especially striking were its urns; high as tables, wide as chairs, they were admired throughout the country for their strong form and delicate beauty.

Legend has it that when each urn was apparently finished, there was one final step. The artist broke it – and then put it back together with gold filigree. An ordinary urn was thus transformed into a priceless work of art. What seemed finished wasn’t, until it was broken.

So it is with people. Broken by hardships, disappointments and tragedy, they can become discouraged and cynical. But lives can also be mended. Put back together well, they won't be just like they were before. Damaged pieces reassembled with a golden bonding of patience and love will help form a person into an exquisite masterpiece. It is as if people have to be broken before they can become whole and complete.

If you feel broken remember this – you are a work of art. As a work of art, you may never be finished, but that is the process of a lifetime. And your very brokenness serves a purpose.

Remember this, too: Every time you decide to mend, you become a little more complete. And a little more beautiful.

-- Steve Goodier

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When Suffering Visits

Image by marija jure

It may leave a valuable gift...


We are changed, sometimes in unexpected ways, by the problems of life.

One of Canada's most famous physicians was Dr. William Osler. Many stories are told of this beloved doctor, but one of the most revealing comes from World War I.

Friends recalled the day when Osler was working in one of Britain's military hospitals during the war. He was called out of the wards during his daily rounds to be given an important message; his own son had been killed on the fields of France.

Stunned by the news, he still came back to pick up his rounds. For a long period afterward he was noticeably different. And those who knew him best said that he changed as a physician that day. The cheerful note was gone from his voice and never again did friends hear the tune which he so often whistled as he went from ward to ward.

Though these things never returned, something eventually came to take their place. Everyone noticed a new compassion in his care of the soldiers who each day streamed in from the battlefield. Before, he had the professional concern of the physician, so important to the practice of medicine; now there was an added discernible note of a personal compassion, like that of a father for his son....

Like most people who have experienced such losses, Osler must have spent considerable time in grief. But as he healed and integrated the loss into his life, it left him a different person.

Pain will do that. It changes us, often in unexpected ways. It can leave us angry and broken, or, as in the case of Osler, it can bring forth qualities such as compassion or tenderness. It is as if the physician channeled his pain into energy and love for others, caring for them as he would care for his own child.

Helen Keller, who found a way to thrive though she went through life both sightless and deaf, knew plenty about suffering. She wisely said, "The struggle of life is one of our greatest blessings. It makes us patient, sensitive, and Godlike. It teaches us that although the world is full of suffering, it is also full of the overcoming of it."

Yes, the world is full of suffering. We can't avoid it no matter how hard we try. But it is also full of examples of people, like you and me, getting through it. Those who overcome great challenges will be changed, and often in unexpected ways. For our struggles enter our lives as unwelcome guests, but they bring valuable gifts. And once the pain subsides, the gifts remain.

These gifts are life's true treasures, bought at great price, but cannot be acquired in any other way.

-- 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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An Important Word to Learn

Image by Max Straeten

An office reports that they have an answering machine that instructs callers to leave their name and address, and to spell any difficult words.

Early one Monday when an assistant was reviewing weekend messages, she heard an enthusiastic woman recite her name and address and then confidently say, "My difficult word is reconciliation. R-E-C-O-N-C-I-L-I-A-T-I-O-N."

Everyone's a comic. (And I love that.) But in another sense, reconciliation IS a difficult word. If not difficult to spell, then difficult to carry out. But it's also an important word.

When my son was eleven years old he came home from school in tears one day. A couple of the older kids had bullied him at the bus stop.

We soon learned that tension had been brewing for some time. For several days there had been taunts, then pushing and shoving. And now the conflict escalated to fists. Rob wanted to stay home from school so he wouldn't have to confront the boys in the future.

We called the school and found great support. "We'll be happy to call the boys' parents," we were told. "And you should call the police."

"We don't know what we will do yet," I said. I felt that calling the police was a resort to be used when everything else failed, and I wanted first to consider other ways of handling the situation. I asked him to hold off calling the boy's parents.

The next day was Saturday. Rob happened to look out the window and said in alarm, "There are the boys who beat me up!" Two older boys were standing in front of our house, as if they were waiting for Rob to step outside.

I immediately began to think of what I wanted to say to them, but my wife Bev, a natural peacemaker, acted first. She opened the door and said with a smile, "Hi guys. Would you like some ice cream?"

They looked at each other in puzzlement. But they were teenagers, after all, so they shrugged their shoulders and one of them said, "Sure. Why not?"

They followed her indoors and Bev promptly introduced herself, Rob's younger brothers and me. She even introduced Rusty the dog. "And I think you already know Rob," she said, pointing to our son. Her idea was to help them to see that Rob was a person, not a target. He had a family; he lived in a neighborhood and even owned a family pet.

Bev drew the boys into conversation while we ate ice cream. After a few minutes, she said, "I know there's been some trouble at the bus stop. I think there may be a misunderstanding."

They nodded that there had indeed been trouble at the bus stop.

She continued, "Maybe we can talk about the misunderstanding so you can be friends."

They nodded their agreement and we talked until the ice cream was finished. Eventually the boys apologized and said there would be no more trouble. And there wasn't. Ever.

The vice-principal of the school called back the following week and asked about the fighting. "Did you call the police?" he asked.

"No, but we've taken care of it," I said.

"What did you do?" he wondered.

I said, "We fed them ice cream."

Reconciliation is a difficult word...a difficult task. But what could be more important? It may be easier to control conflict by force than to persevere and find a way through to harmony and cooperation. Force can stabilize a situation; it can impose a truce. But reconciliation leads to peace, which is a far better outcome.

Blessed are the reconcilers. May they be given all the ice cream they can ever eat!

-- Steve Goodier

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A Hole in the World

Do you remember the Eagle's song “Hole in the World”? It begins like this:

There's a hole in the world tonight.
There's a cloud of fear and sorrow.
There's a hole in the world tonight.
Don't let there be a hole in the world tomorrow.
[Music and lyrics by Don Henley and Glenn Frey]

I am an optimist and constantly look for the best. But it does seem, at least at times, that there is a hole in the world.

We live in a day of almost unrestrained violence. Children can be snatched from homes and slain at school. Bombs and missiles are exploded in public places. There is war and there are rumors of war. No community, no race, no nation is immune to nor protected from a growing culture of violence. It's as if there is a hole in the world. Now, more than ever, we need to learn a different way, for the path we're following leads to a dark and dangerous wilderness.

I like the way of Azim Khamisa and Ples Felix, two men who experienced first hand a cloud of fear and sorrow. One deadly evening in 1995, 14-year-old Tony Hicks shot and killed a 20-year-old college student and pizza deliveryman in San Diego, California. Tony and several other gang members ordered pizza and, when it was delivered, Tony was told by his gang to shoot the young man who delivered the food, Tariq Khamisa.

Tariq's father Azim was enraged at the senseless killing. "There's something really wrong with a society where kids kill kids," he spat. He was angry with the kids, but he was even more upset with a culture that breeds so much violence.

Shortly after his son's death, Azim heard from a gentleman named Ples Felix. Ples was Tony Hick's grandfather and guardian. Azim invited Ples to his home and the two men shared their mutual grief and heartache. But it didn't stop there -- they also decided to do something. "I realized that change had to start with me," Azim reasoned. Therefore, though he may have wanted revenge, the grieving father chose a different way to respond to his son's death.

What happened? The victim's father toured the United States with the killer's grandfather. The two men visited schools with a message of nonviolence. They told the story of Tariq and Tony -- one child dead and the other in prison. And in a growing worldwide culture of violence, these two men of peace changed lives. They warmed hearts and stimulated minds of countless young people. They showed us all there is a different way to live.

David Orr, college professor and author, talks about this different way of living. “The plain fact is that the planet does not need more successful people,” he says. “But it does desperately need more peacemakers, healers, restorers, storytellers, and lovers of every kind. It needs people who live well in their places.”

I like that...the world needs “people who live well in their places.” People like Azim Khamisa and Ples Felix.

I want to be one of those people. So I will choose a different way. I will choose to be a peacemaker, a healer and a life-bringer. To the best of my ability, I will try to live well in my place.

Because I believe there does not have to be a hole in the world tomorrow.

-- Steve Goodier

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Laughter Is Cheap Medicine

I know a couple who works in the pharmaceutical industry. He is a sales representative and she is a pharmacist. When asked what they do for a living, he is quick to reply, "She makes drugs and I sell ‘em."

I believe it was Lord Byron who said, "Always laugh when you can. It is cheap medicine." And researchers are finding that to be true – quite literally.

A woman diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis wrote to me and talked about how painful the disease had become. Debra said that no drugs would touch the devastating pain. "At times I prayed to die because I did not think I could go on this way," she said. But in two and a half years she weaned herself from most of her medication, which had reached a high of 21 pills a day. This is how she did it.

"I began seeing a doctor who gave me the most important prescription that I ever could have received," she said. "He excused himself from the room. I watched him walking back and forth in the hall; he seemed to be in deep thought."

The doctor came back in with this prescription: he told Debra to get some funny movies and to begin laughing (the doc was a Norman Cousins fan, no doubt). If she didn't feel like laughing, then she should smile. If she didn't feel like smiling, she should smile anyway. He said that it would increase endorphins in her brain and help with her pain. In other words, fake it until you make it, like they say.

She did just as he suggested. She laughed when she could. She smiled when she couldn’t laugh. She smiled whether she felt like it or not. Her children teased her about her fake smile, but she told them that it was going to get rid of her pain.

And here’s the amazing thing: it did. Of course, not all of it, but a great deal of her pain eventually dissipated and in time, what was left became manageable – without all of the drugs.

Today, Debra laughs easily and is never seen without her smile. She says that she would not even feel normal without it.

It’s true that laughter really is cheap medicine. It’s a prescription anyone can afford. And best of all, you can fill it right now.

-- Steve Goodier

Image: freeimages/Jotul Oven

When They Trespass Against Us

I saw a sign in a church parking lot. It read: "Parking for Church Use Only. Violators will be towed." I wondered if it might be more effective if some humor were used: "Parking for Church Use Only. Violators will be baptized and expected to tithe." That should clear the lot.

I heard of one church that posted a sign that read, "We forgive those who trespass against us; but they will be towed all the same."

We've all had people trespass against us in one way or another. And we have each done our share of trespassing. The dictionary defines trespassing as any offense, transgression or error against others. Trespassing covers a huge territory. Though not always intentionally, I know I’ve trespassed plenty over the years and more people than I can remember have trespassed against me.

In his book Lee: The Last Years, author Charles Flood reports that after the American Civil War, Confederate General Robert E. Lee visited a Kentucky lady who took him to the remains of a grand old tree in front of her house. There she bitterly cried that its limbs and trunk had been destroyed by Union artillery fire. She looked to Lee for a word condemning the North or at least sympathizing with her loss.

After a brief silence, the general said, "Cut it down, my dear Madam, and forget it." He seemed to know that as long as she continued to recount her losses, she'd never get over them. She had to release the North from her debt in order to find anything like happiness again.

There’s a lot I have had to cut down and forget. I believe it’s the only way ahead. It’s the only way to really live after loss, hurt or insult. Cut it down and forget it.

Judith Wallerstein studied and wrote for years about the lives of people who experienced divorce. At first she was surprised to discover how long feelings of anger and hurt lingered after a divorce.  Even ten years after papers were signed, Wallerstein noted that many former husbands and wives were still just as angry at one another as in the beginning.  It’s as if they gazed every day in contempt upon the grand old tree that used to be their relationship, now scarred and irreparably damaged, and used the ritual to feed their bitterness. She noticed that some former spouses, years after a separation, still recited in detail negative violations and trespasses of the other.  The problem? These unhappy people were trapped emotionally by their anger and bitterness.

People will always trespass against us. But there comes a time to cut the tree down and forget it. For in the end, I’ve discovered that only when I fully release others from my debt am I able to build the happy and productive life I want. And though cutting that tree down is rarely my first impulse, but it is my best final response to those who trespass against me.

--  Steve Goodier

Image: flickr.com/Peter Linehan

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

The Gift of Music

“Time can bring you down, time can bend your knees.

Time can break your heart, have you begging please.

Beyond the door there's peace I'm sure,

And I know there'll be no more tears in heaven.”

These lyrics were penned in response to tragedy, when guitarist Eric Clapton’s son Conor fell to his death from a New York high-rise window. The music helped him heal.

In 1994 the city of Sarajevo was daily under siege. Mortars and artillery fire instantly transformed once beautiful buildings into rubble. Sarajevo’s citizens were frightened, weary and increasingly despondent. Then, one February day, a mortar shell exploded in the market killing 68 civilians. Many more were wounded and maimed from the blast.

A cellist with the Sarajevo symphony could no longer stand the chaos. He took his cello to the market, sat down amidst the rubble and played a concert. When he finished, he simply took up his instrument and left.

Every day, for 67 days, he came to the market. Every day he played a concert. It was his gift to the city. He did it because he felt his community must find a way to survive, and music can bring hope.

Music is a great gift. When I need to start my day in the right frame of mind, sometimes I’ll sing. Music aligns my thoughts and emotions; my mind and spirit. When I awake in the middle of the night, I go back to sleep best if I sing in my head. Music calms and centers. When I find myself experiencing a moment of happiness, I’ll sometimes sing out loud. (It works best when others are not present.) Music expresses joy like nothing else can.

One of the greatest cellists of all time was Pablo Casals. He exiled himself from his native Spain during the regime of Francisco Franco and became a world citizen and a great humanitarian. Casals passionately desired that the world exist in peace and harmony. He said once that if all the orchestras in the world were to play Beethoven's 9th Symphony simultaneously, then peace would come to the world.

I wonder if that is true. But if not peace, then perhaps joy might come. Or hope. Or healing.

It’s the gift of music.

-- Steve Goodier

freeimage.com/maggie