” I understand that you have a problem.
The Caretaker
I do, do I? And what exactly is my problem, I thought. Couldn’t he see the elephant— it was right there in front of him — standing between him and I. Briefly, I stopped what I was doing, vacuuming my pool on a scorching summer day, to see who made such an unexpected statement.
A gift
It was an older gentleman, older than I, employed by a neighboring condominium community to tend to their property. I could see he was sincere, and he meant well but maybe was unsure how to bridge the subject. “I have a secret,” I thought. “Is that the problem that you are referring to?”
He didn’t really need me to tell him about my problem, or my secret. In his own way, he was telling me that he knew. I could have blurted out an answer to make him go away, after all, I had matters under control. Had I not entertained his statement, I would have missed out on the why behind his desire too freely give. He wanted to be a blessing to honor someone close to him for reasons he would soon share. If I had responded with anything but sincere gratitude, I would have missed the rest of the story.
Freely Given
At times, it feels like there are invisible hands that find me, that help with me with tasks that are more difficult for me than they once were. Other times, it’s as if those hands are there just to cheer me on. I don’t always know where they come from or how they learned of my need; after all, I too am good at keeping secrets. Maybe not knowing all the details is the very thing that makes them so special and so cherished.
But hands don’t get places on their own, they need feet to take them where they need to be. In those instances where the hands are unseen, footsteps can be heard. Maybe it’s the sound of a power tool emanating from my garage that draws out the Tim Taylor in many of us. What prompts so many to selflessly give to one so undeserving?
The Caretaker wanted to honor someone on the maintenance crew, who also had Parkinson’s. His friend lost his battle. As we spoke, he shared more about his co-worker. The longer we talked, the more connections we discovered. As it turned out, when I was in early elementary, we lived on the same street. I had gone to grade school and probably played kickball, tag, or hide and seek with his son. We attended the same church. That brief afternoon, my world and his were connected, and simultaneously both grew bigger and seemed smaller.
Undeserving
I will be the first to admit that, in the past, I have not always been a compassionate spouse or an engaged father; and as far as the rest, I will only plead the Fifth. But now I am the recipient of random acts of kindness that few have the privilege to experience. Since there is no place in my world-view for karma, I cannot expect reciprocity should I choose to pay it forward. That leaves me to conclude that it is grace that I am experiencing — grace in action.
Blessing
The days that I could climb on a roof to help a neighbor repair a leak are in my review mirror, as are most things that require an appliance dolly or random explosive devices. However, that only includes a few activities, and it does not give me a pass to be a blessing to others.
I am told by a person from my past that I have a story that others might want to hear, even find it uplifting, and dare I say be a blessing. Heady stuff from someone I shared a locker with all through high school, isn’t it? Now it’s time to use the gift that I have been given to bless others. I am out of excuses; the virus, the rioting, the political unrest. I could go on, but I think you get the point. There are risks to everything. There are ample excuses not to do what I should do out of fear that my secrets will be told.
Time is Now
About a year ago, a mentor baited me with this question and taunted me to act on it. “What are you running from?” He continued, “The story of your life is not a secret to hold but a story to be told.” His words, not mine. I tried to replace your, a singular pronoun with our a plural, but he would not authorize it.
I’m still not sure that the world is ready for my story, from someone who struggled to get a “D+” in Art and Physical Education and would eventually graduate with a Master’s degree with high honors from one of the most prestigious universities in the country. My eclectic experiences ranged from a career that included self-employment, a stint at a big–4 accounting firm, from highway construction to three distinctly different not-for-profits.
Who could have imagined that someone self-protective and introverted would be invited to share his story in 40 plus cities spanning coast to coast? Who would have thought that one could do so little with so much, or so much with so little?
Get ready. It has all the makings to be a white knuckle ride.
Thanks for reading, liking, and sharing.
Ivy wants to come along. Three months of self-quarantine didn’t serve her well; probably too many trips to the refrigerator.
Al and his faithful, but socialite sidekick, Ivy the wonder pup.
I think we can convert social distancing to something that a dog can relate to. How about an orbit that is 3-pi? I know how much you love pie.