Leap Out of Bed with Your Vision Turned On

The difference between a person who is vitally engaged in life and someone who is mearly going through the motions, is a vision fuled by passion. Side effects of this kind of vision may include:

• Enthusiastic mood
• Confident posture
• That look of being "up to something"
• An optimistic, energenic presence
• Unbridaled conviction
• Undeniable magnetism

Having vision fueled by passion promotes a special kind of vision - it"s a "seeing" that makes the future seem tanagible and well within your grasp. You can feel, hear, taste, and see all you that you desire. It is the cource of being vitally engaged! 

Today I stopped by the local cemetary to visit my friends. I think of them as my friends because whenever I'm there, I feel comfortable. I feel at peace. This cemetary is 150 years old. I'll post some photos asap. Whenever the stress of the day is boiling over, I'll drop by for a visit and a new perspective. Many of my friends died 150 years ago when the cemetary first opened. I sit and wonder what kind of challenges they must have had to deal with, back in the day. 

This is not my experience. I read it and had to pass it along. I found this after I got back from the cemetary.

I went to a funeral recently.  It was for a 4 year old girl, Kristie.  She had been complaining her head hurt for a few months.  And then when her speech started to slur, they took her to the doctor.  An MRI showed a massive brain tumor.  Two months of chemotherapy and then she died.  So sad.

But what was even sadder - the funeral.  A small white coffin center aisle.  Just the size alone of the coffin told you something was so wrong with this picture.  A church filled with 500 people.  An hour of gentle words from well-wishing friends and family.  And then a moment like no other.   Something which will stay with me for the rest of my life.   The little girl’s mother went up to the podium.  

I was shocked.  I thought no parent was that brave to speak at her own daughter’s funeral.  But this pale, red-eyed, slow moving mother climb up to the podium.

500 people sat in stunned silence watching this woman look out quietly over the audience.  30 seconds went by but it seemed like 30 days.  She took a deep breath and then spoke in frail gasps, “Every morning... for the last two months... this is even after chemo started....  every morning Kristie would climb onto my cot...  right next to her hospital bed and  give me a hug....    And when I cried... she would sing to me.  She would sing to me to make it better.  It was the song from Barney.  ‘I love you.  You love me.’  That’s what she would sing... to me... to make me feel better.  She wanted to make ME feel better....”

She broke into tears.  I could tell the people seated around me were trying to stifle their own whimpering.  Some not so successfully.  I’m a grown man and even I had trouble holding on.  I could feel my throat clenching up.  I avoided making eye contact with anyone knowing it would send me over the edge.

The mother continued, “Never once could I sing it back to her... I’m so sorry I lacked the strength...”

Now people in the audience were openly weeping.

The mother looked out at us again and said through her tears, “So please bear with me as I have one last thing to do before I send my daughter off to heaven...”

She took a few slow measured breaths like she was building up momentum.  And then she began to sing, “I love you.... you love me....”

But she couldn’t finish.  She collapsed onto the lectern.  Her face buried in her arms.  500 people staring helplessly, watching this mother break down.

I started taking slow measured breaths myself to keep from crying.  It was barely working.

Her sister climbed up to the podium.  We all looked on with pained expressions as the sister tried to pull the crying woman back to her seat.  But she’d have none of it.  She stood tall again.  She looked out over the coffin and began anew, “I love you.... “  Her voice quivering in an unintentional vibrato, “You love me....”

Now she just bawled.  No hiding her face.  She just stood there and bawled in the shrieking voice that was the most painful sound I’ve ever heard.  Not because of the decibel level, but because of what the bawling meant.  This was grief deeper than the ocean.  A mother’s love - broken.  

And she was not alone.  Half the audience was shrieking right along with her.  Some people had collapsed down to their knees.  Others had condensed themselves into little balls huddled on the church pews.

The sister tugged again and this time the mother relented.  She backed away from the microphone.  She ever so gingerly took a step down from the podium, her sister holding her by the elbow, guiding her back to her seat.

But suddenly a man stood up.  He had been sitting in the second row.  He was older.  I took him to be the little girl’s grandfather.  He stood up and with his chest puffed out and his body tall and strong, in a booming voice he started singing  “I Love you, you love me,  we’re one happy family....”

The mother stopped her descent.  She looked back at this man, her head slightly tilted, her eyes conveying  a hint of gratitude.  She looked back at this man as he continued, “With a great big hug and a kiss from me to you....”

But now there were two voices.  The grandmother seated next to the grandfather.  She stood up.  Holding the man’s elbow for support.  “Won't you say you love me too?”

And when they were done, they started right over again, this time the aunt sitting on his other side joined in.  “I love you... you love me...”  The uncle stood up.  And then another person and another.  “Won't you say you love me too...”

Everyone around me started standing.  We all looked forward bellowing out the words.  Anyone passing outside on the street had never heard such a chorus.  500 voices strong.  Singing this lullaby come requiem at top volume.  Our voices in unison, reaching out not only to the girl, and not only to the mother, but all the way to God himself.  1 verse.  2 verses. 3 verses.  

And then it happened.  The mother, who had been seated on the step of the altar with head in hands, she  stood and climbed back to the microphone.  She took a deep breath, and with the strength of this family of 500 standing beside her, she sang to her little girl one last time,  “I love you, you love me, we’re one happy family, with a great big hug and a kiss from me to you, won't you say you love me too?”

This was humanity shining at the darkest moment.  I will never think badly of people again.

I saw a reather nasty post on Craigs List today. The writer was really upset about the Invation of illegal aliens and Mail Order Brides. I had to reply and post it here too. 

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Try this on for size.

Your middle class house is a 10+12' room with a cement floor.
The windows have no glass, maybe wooden shutters to cover them from the torrential , tropical rains. You have a single light bulb hanging from the sheet metal roof.

Just outside of one windows is a 55 gal drum. Each morning the water suppply get's pressurised and everyone has a chance to fill their drum. This will be the only water they will have for the next 24 hours. The water is cloudy looking.

To the other side if the house is the kitchen. One keroseane burner. Some more lucky people may have an electric hot plate to cook with. There is no fridg. No way to keep anything cold and preserved. This means daily shopping for very small portions of anything fresh and perishable. No cold drinks to come home to after a long day of work. The usual dinnertime meal is rice and beans and on a good day, a little bit of chicken and some really nasty hard, dried cheese. Topped off with a glass of the murkey water that sat in the 55 gal drum all day.

There is one bed in this room, shared by the family. The few clothing items they do have are hung up on nails along the walls. A lucky family may have a radio to help pass the evening hours, before the next day comes and another backbraking day in the pinapple or banana plantaion get's the best of the  men, while the women travel to the factory to assemble the Osh Kosh overalls that you just bought at Mervyn's for $40.00. The women that cut and sewed the fabric earn about $24.00 a month. Those Osh Kosh jeans cost less than $5.00 to manufactuer and ship. Guess where all the profits go?

When "Nature Calls" you walk out to the back of the house. There is a small structure there that provides little privacy. You relieve youself into a deep hole in the ground and hope the stench does not overwhelm you. Shower time is easy for the ladies. They strip down to their bra and panties (outside, near the out house) and dump a bucket of that cold merkey water over their heads and then wash. Follow it with a rince and the bra and panty get's cleaned at the same time, ready to be worn again the next day.

Inside the house, you'll find no books or magazines. No TV, no PC, no Game Cube, or SP2. You might find a picture of Mickey Mouse, or John Paul II or Jesus taped or nailed on the wall.

Winters are harsh with no heater and wooden shutters to cover the windows. The hot, nearly 100% humid summers cause a lot of cases of heat stroke. Medical care is generally non-existant

I saw all this for myself, once upon a time in Honduras. I came back home with a respect for flush tolits and hot, clean water. How can you blame a girl for not wanting to attract and marry an America guy, so she can leave the hellish life she has been exposed to since birth? Did you know that a 5th Birthday Party is the happiest birthday party? It's becasue if they live to see their 5th, thell likely live to be an adult.

Mexicans are pouring over our borders by the 1000's every day. Believe me, when I say the Mexicans, living in Mexico have it far better off then the people of Honduras.

I absolutly hate this illegal alien invation, but the only way it will ever stop is to work together to make life more bearable for those who live in economically depressed countries.

Maybe I'm just an idiot, with no business sence. But what would be so wrong about using the labor force in Honduras to manufacture our clothing, pay them a real living wage,not $24.00 a month, and then bring those clothes here where they could be sold for a reasonable price? If the total cost of manufacturing and shipping for one pair of Osh Kosh jeans is 5 dollars, based on slave labor wages, Why not raise the cost of production to $12.00 per unit and when they get here, they be sold at Retail in a Store that does not support the exploitation of the labor force that manufactured the items, nor require the retail price to be 8, 10, 12  times cost? So it costs $12.00 to manufacture and ship. We take over the now closed former CHOC Hospital Thrift Store and open it as a clothing store where brand new clothing can be purchased at far less than even Wal Mart sells it at? The profit will be small, but the lives of the people that made those clothing items will be far better and that just might cause them to stop thinking about traveling to "El Norte".

Change the Way You See Everything is a book you can read over and over again and find a new jewel each time.

"In everyone's life, at some time, our inner fire goes out.

It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being.

We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the human spirit".

Albert Schweitzer 

Simplicity

Because they had nothing, they feared in no way to loose anything.

-- Thomas of Celano --

Writing about Saint Francis and his Brothers in Christ.

You don't posses things, they posses you. Nothing comes free, you worked hard for everything you have. Because you have “it”... this thing you worked so hard to acquire, you are now forced to take care of it, maintain it, clean it and defend it from thieves and vandals.

Once upon a time I had a public storage unit where I stored my stuff for nearly 2 years. It was finally time to move away from that area and so I had to go pick up my things from storage. I had been so far removed from the stuff in storage, that when I returned to pick up these “possessions”, I could not believe why I had paid $18.00 a month for nearly 2 years to keep these nearly worthless material things! 90% of the stuff I had in storage went into the trashinstead of the moving van.

What we need vs. what we want.

We need air. Without it most of us would be dead in less than 3 minutes

We need water. Without water most of us would be dead in less than 3 days

We need food. Without food most of us would be dead in 30 days or less.

These are “Must Haves”.

We need shelter. A 10,000 square foot home with a majestic view is a want, not a need.

We need clothing. A silk suit and Italian leather shoes, is a want, not a need.

Most of us need some kind of transportation. A BMW, Mercedes, Lincoln Navigator, and such are wants, not needs. If you have an $80,000.00 car you are always worried about where to park it, so it won't get scratched and if it does get scratched in a parking lot, you become angry at the person who did it. “What the **** happened here”! “If I EVER find the person that did this to my car, I'll beat the stuffing out of him!!!” As for me, my car is nothing special. I had it in the shop one day to get a new clutch and I watched as a young driver backed his dad's pickup truck directly into the back bumper of my car, inflicting a $200.00 dent upon it. Dad was ever so sorry for what his kid did and offered to fix it on the spot. Repairing the little dent would not make my car look any better and it's not a big deal. I simply let it go. Not to say if someone really crashed up my car, I would let that go! My car is completely reliable and gets excellent mileage. I paid $1000.00 cash for it. The A/C works in the summer. What more do I really need in a car? I don't worry about where to park it. It has a few new scratches on it, perhaps done by my cats who love to sleep on the hood at night. So what? I love my cats and if they scratch the hood a bit, it's not ok, but if they feel more secure sleeping on my car than on the ground, all the better.

Keep things simple. Don't become possessed by your possessions.