Building Bridges

It happened long ago. A terrible storm came through the Irish village, the waters rose, and they swept the child of a prominent citizen away. In desperation, he sought help from the people of the village and fortunately the found the child alive downstream. The father was profoundly grateful and built a much-needed bridge to express his gratitude. Years later, I stood fishing in the waters beneath the bridge and marveled at his gratitude that has echoed through the ages. It made me think of others and how they expressed their thanks:

• There was the successful businessman who was born with a faulty heart. As his condition worsened, he was told he would not live without a transplant. Fortunately, he received a new heart (literally and metaphorically) and decided to express his gratitude to two organizations: the hospital that gave him the heart and the school that loved his grandchildren. For the latter, he gave the lead gift for a chapel. It was a thank you note that would last for ages.

• I was reminded of the mother who almost lost two of her children (and her sister and three nieces) in a horrific car accident. Doctors who were friends of the family rushed to help, each doing whatever he or she could. In time, everyone survived and the mother sought a way to express her gratefulness. She volunteered at the hospital for many years. It’s my way of saying thanks,” she said to her children.

• Then there was the child who messed up in school. Summoned to the Head of School’s office with his parents, he expected to be expelled. Instead, the Head of School said he was going to make an exception and gave the student a second (last) chance. The student made the most of it and became a leader in the classroom, on the playing fields, and in the dorm. “Thank you,” he said softly when he crossed the graduation stage while receiving the school’s highest honor. “You’ve said it in many ways,” the Head of School replied.

Although I was an unsuccessful fishing that day in Ireland, I caught a moment in Irish history and it’s meant more to me than any fish. Our lives are full of blessings. The question is, do we express our thanks in a lasting, meaningful way?

Singing Your Song

I recently went on a Backroads bike trip in Ireland which has stayed with me ever since. The trip, like all Backroads adventures, combined physical activity, beautiful scenery, and cultural exposure. We were taught about Irish history and given the chance to experience the beer (not me) and music that plays such a part in its culture today. During a musical performance in a pub, the leader described how Ireland navigated through its many struggles. At one point, when things were particularly bleak, Ireland stopped using its language and singing its music.

I celebrated the country making it through such a dark period as the group sang a quintessential Irish ballad, but, as they played, I thought about the meaning of their struggle in my own life. I thought about the dark times when I stopped using my language and singing my own music. I don’t think I’m unique, but in the days since I’ve thought about the importance of speaking and singing what is uniquely ours.

I believe in my soul that each of us was uniquely and wonderfully created. I once thought we were born for a specific purpose, but now think our only purpose is to be who we were created to be – to speak and sing our unique language and song. Where we speak or sing will vary, and the opportunities will be countless, but the sacred opportunity to bring our voice into our daily lives is singular.

I’m embarrassed by the times I’ve spoken the language of those around me and sang songs that were not mine. to sing. I sometimes still do, I’m sad to admit, but the Irish story helped awaken me to the chance I have today to find my song again and sing it wherever I go.

How about you?

Giving and Receiving

I’m a gift-giver. That doesn’t mean I’m special or particularly noble. It’s just who I am and what I do. If you’ve read Gary Chapman’s, The Five Love Languages, you know that gift-giving is one of the five and it’s been a part of me for as long as I can remember. Yes, sometimes I’ve gone too far or have used it for wrong reasons, but mostly it’s how I respond when my heart needs to sing.

Recently, I attended a wedding of a couple I adore. The service was held in a magnificent setting and I knew, even before the service began, that I wanted to try and paint the scene. When I returned home and went to my studio, I began right away. I didn’t want to forget how it looked or how it made me feel. When the painting was finished, my wife and I had it framed and gave it to the couple.

A voice within wanted to point out it was no masterpiece, but I didn’t listen and sent it anyway. I’m glad I did because the couple adored it and their reaction made such an impression on me that I needed to make it a brushstroke.

The connection I felt to the couple when they responded to the painting felt nothing short of divine. Someone gave a gift and it was received with profound gratitude. I’m not sure there’s a better reason to be alive. To offer a piece of ourselves, in whatever way we may, and have that be received with joy is what I think we’re here for. Whether as the giver or the receiver, the encounter is sacred. It’s true between one another, and it’s true with God.

And yet, as givers  . . .

We often listen to the voices that say what we have to offer is not good enough, we let the fear of rejection win the day, we measure a relationship to decide if it warrants such generosity, or we let our fear of not having enough cause our fists to clench around whatever we have to give.

As recipients . . .

We take others’ generosity for granted, we expect gifts, we open a gift but never really receive it because we’re too busy moving through life at warp speed, or we let our hopes and/or expectations measure what’s given.

My recent experience with this young couple has reminded me that giving something of our selves is what life is all about, and that receiving whatever is given is a way to complete the sacred dance that beckons.

The choice is ours.