The Old Man from my tribe

I pull into the lot...pitch black...nobody is up except a few crazy people who are my "tribe."

People slowly getting out of vehicles...walking in...some bleary eyed...some jogging into the building.  It's 5 AM workout time.  I know all of the members of this tribe...15 to 20 people who are "regulars" at this hour and place. Carolyn greets us all at the check-in desk as we swipe in.  How does she remember every one's names?

I can faintly smell the first coffee of this young day...it smells wonderful (and I don't even drink it)...I've been doing this for 2 years at this hour...and I think of this as my tribe.

The sights, the smells...the starting whir of elliptical machines and treadmills. Some weights begin clanging and banging.  The exercise class across the hall starts its upbeat rhythms.  At first glance all seems normal for a Monday workout...however...Something is not the same.

There is one older man...he uses the elliptical for 30 minutes every day that I'm in.  He's very trusted by all of the members ...both male and female...all ages.  He is a trusted friend...a grandfatherly figure for certain. He usually has one member or another talk with him...he listens a lot--like a good mentor...today he is standing but not mounting his usual machine.

It starts with one woman going up to him and saying some words...hugs are exchanged...he thanks her...

Then another woman...some words...hugs...a big thank you.  He looks her straight in the eyes...he is grateful.

Then a man... a handshake, his other hand on his arm... "I'm so sorry" he says clearly.  The man is clearly thankful for this and the other exchanges that follow....many, many of them, one after the other. All in all I observed this go on for 45 minutes.  I wanted to extend my sympathies as well but since I didn't know him...I didn't want to make a fool of myself guessing...  I was very moved by the tears that welled up in some of the people's eyes...and in his eyes...genuine love and affection...like a rec center family.

Then another walks with him out of the room and down the hallway...a few minutes later they reappear.  He is grateful...the same look that usually those who share endless conversations with him on other mornings --the way they look at him--grateful.

Clearly something has happened in this man's life...and I'm guessing his wife passed away.

There was an outpouring of compassion and empathy for this man.  An outpouring from his tribe where others clearly wanted him to know their feelings of sympathy...feelings of compassion...a reaching out with support.  It was beautiful...it was touching...it was everything that most days and our news are not.  It was love for our fellow man...and neighbors...

As I went into work last week, and slugged through issues and problems...and grasping and calculating solutions, I couldn't help but think back to this story...if only we cared about each other like that "morning team"... with true caring... nothing would be impossible.  The truth is some people do care in this way...yet there will always be a few that have an angle to play...instead of simply bringing your best every day....and caring for our work family that we spend so much time with.  There are those all around...many stories...so much hurt, pain and loss...if we open our ears and eyes and hearts--we will realize its prevalence. At least four stories of cancer, four different family deaths, three surgeries needed...and it goes on and on...healing needed, meals needed, finances needed, direction needed...

Staying present in the pain and suffering stretches the heart in ways that fleeing or pretending never will.  It is that expanding of our hearts that brings the gold of growth.  Gold brought about through suffering together...praying--some prayers that will not receive the answers we long for...and that we long for others. I'll be the first to admit...there is a physical and emotional cost to staying present...but no matter how I try to make the email or issues the most important, those who really know me...they know it is the weight of these stories that weighs heavily each day.

It is always a choice...through the painful memories of personal and team betrayals --betrayals of trust... do I put my armor back on to protect my heart...or do I go back in without the armor and share my heart?

I want to live a big loving life like that man at the rec center...one that encourages others each and every day, every day--he shows up...and brings a smile to others...and wisdom and insight...but mostly and first--he shows up...I think that's what it takes in this life...that is what truly carves names on the hearts of others.

Today...let's show up for each other...in honor of the old man at the rec center...it would make him proud...

PS--armor is not invited...

God I went a new job

I know...you believe I have a typo in the title...but I don't.

You see let me explain...

For years my family would drive all the way down Street Road to Bensalem Baptist church...every service, Wednesday night prayer meeting, Stockade (young men group) on another night, three services on Sundays (prior to cable when Disney was on Sunday nights but not much else...kind of blows your mind kids).  We were constantly going up and down the same stretch of road for the 5 years we attended there prior to Davisville Baptist Church.

It was a dismal traffic light to traffic light commute to attend services and learn more about God and our faith.

I remember reading and seeing the same graffiti near Route 1 on a tunnel/overpass bridge...it appeared one week and I noticed all of the writing on the way to church.

This one stated: "God I went a new job."

Hmmmmmm....I'm only a fifth grader but even I knew this message wasn't quite right.

We all want things from God though...throughout life...sometimes we ask for things or we cry out to God...because the desperation is that nobody else can help us at that point. Staying present in these painful places stretches our hearts in ways that fleeing never will...and so we call out...or graffiti our requests up to God. I imagine sometimes we just write them out from the honest pain in our souls.

I wondered...who wrote this message...what do they look like?  Are they homeless?  Or simply under employed and desperate for help in life?  Are they a man or woman?  Did they "want" a new job....or was the message correct?

went definition: Went is defined as to have gone somewhere in the past. (verb) An example of went used as a verb is in the sentence, "I went to the store yesterday," which means that I traveled to the store yesterday.


The problem with asking something from God for the past is that he is the God of the present and future.  He lives in both places for each of us...the past is filled with regrets and would've, could've, should've...He walks with us through the present...through our wants--and even our "went."

I wish I had the actual photo of the bridge/tunnel....I'm not certain why it represented more than a passing thought for me?!  Maybe it was simply a long arduous commute past some people I didn't understand and who scared me because of their needs.  I deeply wanted to graffiti over the graffiti...change the one letter so that the want...the deep desire for something was accurately reflected...as if God needed the words spell checked in order to know the heart of the requester.

The deep truth I've just realized today is this person spelled it all out to God...made their wants and prayer need out there for all to read and see.  I had hoped God would answer and the person would come back and write  at some point "PS--Thanks for the answer God"...but that never came.

Was the request ever answered?  We won't surely know on this side of eternity...

What I do know is that graffiti or no graffiti God is honored by humble broken cries of honest brokenness laid out before him.  I have seen it in my own life and the lives of others through painful experiences. I guess if I could go back today and set up a late night spray paint message of my own it might look like this:

And that says enough...the rest should be us being the hands and feet of Jesus so that our message from our mouths matches the message of we live....walk the talk.
Was the prayer ever answered?
"God Knows"
... did they get a new job?
"God Knows".
...if I had a job to help someone--did I help a person?
God knows....
It's mostly God...and a pinch of us doing what's within our power to do....but the heavy work is always the miraculous...God Knows...