Dancing When It Hurts

Tomorrow, my young friend Chris (not his real name) in New Jersey will move into a new room near his college, courtesy of my credit card and the offerings of a few friends I contacted to help. He may not spend his Christmas with a loving family, but he WILL spend it with a roof over his head and food to eat, because people can still be touched by the plight of one another, even in this self-centered day and age. When I call him Christmas morning, he will answer from under the covers of a warm bed instead of a freezing car seat. One less thing for him to worry about as winter quarter at his college looms up.

I don't write this stuff to aggrandize myself. I know almost no one is reading it. I write it because this is my journey, and one of the rules of my journey is that "it really is better to give than to receive."

People have become cold to each other. Closed to anything but their own sensations. Somehow, we have confused selfishness and isolation with independence and freedom. Why would we rather sit behind a computer and talk to strangers with a keyboard than to sit face-to-face with another human and engage in real conversation?

I think it's because having internet "friends" and trash-talking people we will never meet seems like all fun and games with no consequences. But there ARE consequences. I think we slowly forget to listen and to care about anyone but ourselves. We're too busy thinking up the next grand put-down or witty retort, or the next lie to impress "friends" we've never seen. We're not afraid, because we have internet anonymity to hide behind! No one can touch us, no one can hurt us.

Or help us.

Soon, when we look at the real people around us, they might as well be holding computer screen frames in front of their faces; they are little more real to us than the internet, and just as one-dimensional. The objects of our cruel humor, be it fat people or old people or religious people, cease being people in our minds at all. Everyone becomes a stereotype, orbiting around our narcissistic world.

I don't want to be lonely. I want to feel, even if sometimes it hurts. I want to engage people for real, to hear their point of view, to feel their emotions, to empathize with them. When my time here is done and I'm on my deathbed, I think a computer screen will be cold comfort. I want someone to hold my hand, to tell me they love me, to care about me as I take the next step into the unknown.

Maine shaker Joseph Brackett's quiet one-verse 1848 song "Simple Gifts" was expanded, and its hauntingly reticent tune changed into a powerful, moving anthem called "Lord of the Dance", by songwriter Sydney Carter in 1967. Other lyricists have added their efforts over the years, and when some of them are joined together, they become a simple, reverent code for life.

I danced in the morning when the world was young
I danced in the moon and the stars and the sun
I came down from heaven and I danced on the earth
At Bethlehem I had my birth
(refrain)

I danced on a Friday when the world turned black
It's hard to dance with the devil on your back
They buried my body, they thought I was gone
But I am the dance, and the dance goes on
(refrain)

'Tis the gift to be loved and that love to return,
'Tis the gift to be taught and a richer gift to learn,
And when we expect of others what we try to live each day,
Then we'll all live together and we'll all learn to say,
(refrain)

'Tis the gift to have friends and a true friend to be,
'Tis the gift to think of others not to only think of "me",
And when we hear what others really think and really feel,
Then we'll all live together with a love that is real.

(Refrain) Dance, dance, wherever you may be
For I am the lord of the dance, said he
And I lead you all, wherever you may be
I lead you all in the dance, said he

I know who the Lord of the Dance is. I believe He created this dance, our lives, for His own purposes, which one day we will be privileged to know. I think it has something to do with loving each other. And it seems that the simpler the tune He writes, the more majestic it becomes.

It's Christmas. Look around you. Find someone who needs it, and do something simple for them. Feel the power of selfless love.

When Your Best Just Isn't Enough At Christmas

Five years ago, I met a young man and his family though an online self-help forum. They lived in Florida, I live in Washington State. But this fifteen-year-old's dad, a life-long alcoholic, had abandoned the family years before, and his departure left a void so big in the young man's life that any dad, even one who lived across the country and could only talk to him on the phone, was preferable to none at all. That's where I came in.

Five years later, this twenty-year-old lives with me now. His Bipolar Disorder and severe emotional problems have made him unwelcome to his mother, his sister, and almost everyone else who has ever reached out to him. Emotionally, he's about fifteen now. An angry, unsatisfied fifteen. His humor can be very inappropriate. His temper is a raging inferno. His demands can be unreasonable and consuming. But I've adopted him as my own, and that's all that matters now.

Apparently, my siblings don't agree. A few days ago, the word reached me that I was, as usual, welcome at the family Christmas party, but Alex (not his real name) was not. I was stunned. I knew one of my sisters had taken a real dislike to Alex, but I had no idea the bad feeling had spread this far.

There are no words to express my disappointment. I thought my family was bigger than this. I thought they would understand that Alex is troubled, that he needs time to keep growing and to learn about life. I thought they would be patient, knowing this is important to me. I thought they would care.

But with such a condition thrown in my face, I felt I had no choice. What kind of person would I be, if I didn't stand up for Alex? What would it make me if I left him at home, alone, while I went off to the party?

Today was the day. I lied to Alex, telling him we were skipping the family party this year. I couldn't bear to tell him about another rejection, another group he wasn't good enough for. I dropped my mom off at the party. No one came out to greet me. I left with Alex, and we did other things for a few hours until it was time to pick mom up. No one came out to see me off.

On our way home, Alex got into one of his moods and verbally attacked me. In my anger, I almost...almost, blurted out the real circumstances of the day. What better object lesson of the results of his behavior? But I didn't do it. I left again.

Now, here I sit, in my office at work, near midnight, just a few days before Christmas. Rarely in my life have I felt so alone, so sorry for myself. But could it be that my problems are minor?

A few minutes ago, I got a text from another young man, now 21, that I met in that same group years ago. He lives in New Jersey. His family has exploded and there is no one left to help him. He's struggling through college on part-time jobs and I've sent him what money I can to help out. Now he's been laid off, he had to move out of his rented room, the college is closing down for Christmas break, and he has nowhere to go but his car. At Christmas. In the snow.

I've texted him and called him, offering to fly him out here for Christmas break, but he's not replying and I don't know why. Tears are running down my face. There is so much hurt this Christmas, so much need. There is so little I can do to fill it. Sometimes my best just isn't enough.

I need a baby in a manger. I need a star shining brightly in the heavens. I need three kings bearing gifts. I need the peace Christmas is supposed to bring. Please.

The God of Greed

The company I manage just survived a multi-million dollar lawsuit. It all started almost three years ago, when one of our trucks accidentally backed into a pedestrian who had no business being where she was in the first place.

Of course, as people seem to do nowadays, she and her family got dollar signs in their eyes and tried to take us for millions. We offered them a pile of money, but to them it wasn't enough-they had an easy retirement for the whole family in mind, and nothing less would do.

Despite being declared fit almost two years ago, the woman came into court wearing a neck brace, supported on each side by two of her daughters as if she were made of fine china. Then they spent the next week wasting a federal court's valuable time, trying to convince a jury that my crews were careless, gun-slinging cowboys who run over innocent folks for fun.

They put our truck's driver, a good guy who does his job with great care and goes home to a fine family each night, on the stand, and tried to paint him as a monster. They made him relive an event that left him so shaken and traumatized, he needed counseling for months after the accident. They hurt him badly. In the name of money.

Their attorney straight-up lied while cross-examining me, knowing that I would not be able to respond to set the record straight. I was outraged.

In the end, the jury saw through their lies and witnessed naked greed. For their efforts, this grasping woman and her family were awarded far less in the verdict than they would have received if they had taken us up on our very reasonable offer. Justice won out.

But I have to ask myself, what if they had won? A viable, job-producing business would have been destroyed. A dozen hard-working employees with families to support would have lost their jobs in the midst of the worst economy in decades, and just before the holidays to boot. But I guess the wreckage strewn by their lies didn't matter, as long as those people got the undeserved payday they lusted after.

How do people live with themselves when they are infected with greed? It must be like falling in a cesspool and not being able to wash clean. It must stink to everyone around them, but they don't even notice their foul stench because they are too busy chasing things that really don't mean a damn anyway.

Personal responsibility. Honor. Character. Doing unto others, as you would want them to do to you. Responding to evil with good. These are the traits of the people I want to know. The others are like hyenas. They make lots of noise, they hunt in thieving packs, they stink, and they're too ugly to withstand the light of day.