Spoonful of Sugah

I checked my mail later than usual and there was my shiny new passport.  I opened it and looked inside.  I’m not sure what I was expecting to find, but I opened it really carefully.  I imagined for a moment how cool it would be for one of my descendents to someday have a copy of it after I am long gone from this earth.  Maybe several generations from now, one of my descendants will find the record of my passport and get as excited as I do when I am researching genealogy and come across a picture or legal document that tells the tale of the life of one of my ancestors.  I find it fun and amusing to think about.  I’m sure they’d size up my picture and try to find some connection to the look on their own face.  It’s interesting how we are always searching for those links to those who came before us.  I think it’s comforting in a world that spins at such an incredibly fast pace.

I wonder what the story will tell.  I hope it speaks of a life fully lived, a life that radiated with honesty, love, and kindness.  That is my intention. 

As I held the passport in my hands tonight, I once again had a moment of awe, realizing just how blessed I am to be living in a country where I can speak my mind, write down and share my thoughts, practice my own faith, have the option to work, travel, own a home, drive to the grocery store, sing out loud…… it’s not a perfect place, but I am grateful for the freedoms which it provides.

Today I learned of a family who is homeless. 

Being in the field of education, it’s not the first time I’ve heard a similar story.  It’s one that will always make my stomach clump into a ball of knots, like snakes twisted together in a rattan basket.  I don’t know why we don’t take better care of eachother.  I don’t know how we let families with small children end up on the streets scrapping for their next meal.  I’m not pointing a finger at politicians, goverment agencies and local welfare departments either.  That’s just too easy.  EVERYBODY DOES IT.  I’m actually tired of hearing it. I’m referring to each of us as free, thriving, mostly materialistic individuals. 

How do we turn our heads and go about our days thinking about what kind of new SUV we want when there are others who are out in our very same towns thinking about how nice it would be to have a warm and comfortable place to sleep? 

How do we walk around every day with our eyes closed so tightly and yet get to our destinations on time and with snacks galore in our soccer bags? These are the questions I often ask myself. 

If each of us got involved in just one selfless endeavor…..oh, imagine the impact it could make. 

Where I live, approximately 100 other people live in my building. 

What if each of these persons set out to give of themselves for 2 full hours each week? 

What’s that like, about 16 minutes each day? 

(enough time to smoke a cigarette maybe? pick out a movie?  Put on your makeup?)

That would be 200 hours each week of making a positive impact on someone else’s life.

THIS IS JUST IN MY BUILDING!

That would end up being 10,400 hours of giving each year.

How positive could the impact be with just this short 2 hours of time, radiating out into local communities?

Better yet, HOW GOOD WOULD THAT MAKE YOU FEEL?

(imagine, a natural antidepressant, what a concept!)

We can brainstorm, and oh, I will in subsequent posts!

What would you choose to do for YOUR two hours?

With Labor Day here, I’m quietly reflective as I am every year.  Thank you Grover Cleveland for this extra day to honor another summer’s farewell while getting together with friends and family.  I’m reminded of a really fantastic Summer of 2007.  The coolest thing about it is we enjoyed it right here in New England with so much to do that we were left feeling we needed a vacation from our vacation. 

The above pic is a shot I got while taking a ferry from Boston Harbor over to Spectacle Island, one of the many Harbor Islands located just beyond the Harbor.  It was really cool to be surrounded by beautiful sailboats while having planes fly directly overhead.  We got to witness a Native American gathering with the Nipmuc people and I was reminded, once again, of just how blessed I am to live in such a sacred part of this FREE and beautiful country. 

I think for many of us New Englanders, we take for granted just how fortunate we are each day as we tread upon this land, taking part in the daily grind, rushing blindly to our destinations.  As many of us commute down 93 across the bridge into Boston, we are so focused on getting to work on time, that we don’t often have time to remember that we are able to FREELY work and thrive and exist because of that small group of people who stood up for what they believed in back a few hundred years ago, on this very same land.  Since that time, there have also been many others who have fought that similar fight and we NEED to remember them and honor them each day as we go about our business.  How very blessed are we to be living a life where many of us complain that the grocery line is too long, our internet connections are just not running fast enough, and our summers are much too short?  Is this REALLY ALL we have to complain about? 

This very moment many of our friends, families, and loved ones are busy dedicating and sacrificing their lives to honor this freedom that we take so much for granted.  They have given up these lazy days of summer and are living in foreign countries, eating food for nourishment instead of gluttonous pleasure, sweating in the hot sun in heavy uniforms and tightly laced boots.  They are fighting for all of our lives every single day, as well as their own.  Have we taken the time EVERY SINGLE DAY to honor and remember them, to let them know what they’re doing is worthwhile, to just take one minute, ONE MINUTE of our so called busy day and say a small prayer for them? 

Where did you put your flag?  Did that yellow ribbon on your car make too much of a political statement for you, so you threw it away? What happened to “We Remember” or “We’ll Never Forget”?  If we were to tally up all of the losses and say that it all happened on one day, would that help us to remember?  Where is our collective memory?  We’ll remember to pick up our dry cleaning this week, but will we remember that many were lost this week so that we could keep that simple freedom?