Joy in Despair

For me, in dark moments, moments of grief, I am helped by focusing on moments of joy for the past, knowing that life is a balance of both. As we await the pulling of the plug and the formal end of Ray's life, with the understanding that he really died a week ago and has been artificially kept alive thanks to marvelous modern technology, I think back to something that happened a few years ago and which I describe at the end of my book, Blest Atheist.

Even if there are difficulties ahead, there will be help and protection. There will also be rewards. There always are. With God, the rewards are unanticipated and unusual. The simplest among them are the greatest.

One evening last December, the thought came into my head that I should take my evening walk around the mission grounds early. Normally I walk there around 9:00 p.m., and it was only 6:00 when I felt the push to go outside for my walk.

No, I thought. Why would I want to go now? Even though the eventide falls around 5:30 on December nights in San Ignatio, I still prefer to go later—after dinner and dishes and before retiring for the night. It is a marvelously restful way to end the day. Walking brings out the happy endorphins, and just being at the mission provides great encouragement toward prayer.

No, I’ll go later, I thought and began cleaning the kitchen in preparation for dinner. Then the impulse came again. The “argument” went back and forth a couple of times until I approached Donnie, who usually accompanies me on these walks.

“Donnie, how do you feel about taking our evening walk early tonight?” I asked.

“Why?” he asked.

“I don’t know why,” I answered. “I just feel like we should go early.”

Donnie acquiesced and quickly assembled his pipe tools. (He likes to sit and smoke while I walk.) We opened the door and stepped out under the night sky. And there it was, spread across the heavens: a breathtaking lunar ice halo.

Ice halos are rings of light that surround the sun, moon, or other sources of light, such as street lamps. The ones in the heavens are caused by millions of ice crystals in thin, cold, cirrus clouds floating in the troposphere reflecting and refracting light. This particular ice halo was circumhorizonal, a rare phenomenon for which adequately descriptive words, other than scientific ones, are even rarer. Refracted light from the moon spread in a 360-degree circle all around the sky on the same level as the moon yet at the same time touching the horizon wherever we turned—or so it seemed although in actuality the circle of light was parallel to the horizon and not lying upon it. The halo filled the whole sky, with the full moon in its zenith filtering a stream of light through a gossamer foramen in the firmament onto the mission grounds below.

I could almost hear the proud words, “Look what I did!” The hymn of Isaac Waats came to mind instantly: “The moon shines full at His command, and all the stars obey.”

On the mission grounds canopied by the horizon-to-horizon crystal glow, I walked, my arms extended. Irrepressible joy spread past my fingertips, riding on the splendor of light toward the horizon.

Then it was gone. Had I come at my usual time, I would have missed it.

These then are the things that have been seen and experienced by the blest atheist. All the events reported herein [in the book] have enriched my life, but the greatest of these was God sharing with me the lunar ice halo: “Look what I have done!” The hound of Heaven had finally caught me and then had shown me what I had been missing: “Look what I have done!” Indeed, I could almost hear those words and a few more: “Look at what I have done—for you, for all people, because I love you whether or not you even believe that I exist.”

All the miracles that God has done in my life and in the lives of others through me have been wondrous, but pulling me outside to view the ice halo stands out above them all as the most affirming act of God’s love. The miracles were about healing and turning bad into good. They have been important, of course. Viewing the ice halo, however, was about relationship: God’s relationship with me, God’s relationship with all of us. When God called me from my house onto the street and into the field at the mission, I understood that I was special—not special out of many, but special among many, special like all people are special to God.

On an individual level, I was and am at best only a Good Samaritan, and still God wanted a relationship with me. In so many ways, I was and am but a child who finds the adults who can help a sick child artist, a crying lady, a boy in white, or an orphan dying from brain tumors. Like a child, I have no burning desire for financial gain, material possessions, or fame and power. Those desires were beaten out of me in my youth. Although many of these things have appeared unbidden in my life, my true treasure is the people who have come into my life from all continents of the world. There is where my heart is. I want to “pass on” the good that God has brought into my life by using my linguistic proficiency, cultural acumen, and multi-domain knowledge gained from living in the land of splat! to connect people who need help with people who have the ability to give help, no matter where they live or what language they speak. For what good is money if it cannot be used to help those in need? What good are material things unless they make this world a friendlier place: a blanket to warm a homeless man, food for a hungry family, clothes for those burned out of a home? What good is power if not used to empower the powerless to be free to flourish? What good, too, is dreaming an impossible dream if it does not kindle the dreams of others? What good is reaching an unreachable star if it does not sprinkle light onto a dark existence? What good is happiness if it does not splash joy onto dispirited ground, inspiriting the life within to sprout and reach for the heavens? If, indeed, as I have found, helping those in need, making the world a friendlier place, empowering the powerless, kindling dreams, lighting the dark, and splashing joy across the land is what a Good Samaritan does, then I want to be a Good Samaritan for life. To my delight, God seems willing to use me in that capacity. For certain, God knows my heart and what I treasure.

God has many Good Samaritans. Some, like me, are blessed to help a few wounded souls in intensive ways. Others are blessed to help many people in more extensive, but less intensive, ways. Some God leads with their full knowledge. Others, like me for so many years, God leads through their hearts alone. In return, God gives them a treasure far greater than money, honor, power, or prestige: they know a perfect joy that nothing else can give.

I am sure that others saw the ice halo that night for God encourages all people to step bravely out of the grey boxes in which they are cowering and stride buoyantly forth into a divine world resplendent with color, love, and joy. In our tiny town, though, I was the only one who showed up at the mission to see the splendor on that particular winter evening. Others may have showed up elsewhere for the ice halo could be seen for miles. Perhaps even more were called to behold it but were not listening. Those who did listen experienced an unrelenting tug to come outside and witness an awe-inspiring manifestation of God’s loving caress ephemerally spread against the heavens and permanently imprinted in the mind and on the heart.


Note: Concurrently published on all Mahlou blogs.

Time Out from Blogging in Reverence for Life

You may have noticed a lack of blog posts this week. There is an explanation beyond the fact that I am once again on the road, this time in Washington, D.C. (or more accurately, Arlington, Virginia). I will probably be able to post Quick Takes tomorrow evening since I wrote most of them on the plane here. However, anything else may take a few days.

Upon arriving here, I received an urgent phone call from Noelle. Her significant other of ten years' duration had a heart attack during dialysis (he has no functional kidneys) and is currently unresponsive. X-rays show a swollen brain, and doctors would like to have permission to pull the plug. Noelle, our hopelessly hopeful, never-say-never, that-empty-glass-will-soon-be-overflowing child, wants to wait. Probably Lizzie will be the one to make the decision for everyone, as she did in her grandmother's case ten years ago. That time she decided that keeping her grandmother alive artificially was in no one's interest, including her grandmother's, since even if her grandmother came out of the coma, she would not be able to care for herself or even think since all functional brain tissue had been destroyed by a brain bleed. Since Lizzie is a professor of cognitive neuroscience, doctors are willing to share records and test results with her that they would not normally share with family members; they know that she will look at them dispassionately and make an objective and measured judgment as a professional colleague.

Lizzie has conditionally weighed in on Ray. Not having the x-rays yet and just listening to the description of what has occurred and considering his comatosity, she has informed her sister that in her opinion the situation is "bad." However, she won't give any final advice until she sees documentation.

A little background: Ray lost kidney function in 2006 and was comatose (without brain swelling or damage) for several months, then was on life support in a city five hours away until December 2007. It was a wonderful Christmas present to have him be taken off life support and breathing on his own. Then, in December 2008, he was released into a care facility and transferred to Salts where he was just a few minutes away from Noelle. That was another wonderful Christmas present and a prayer answered. Ray and Noelle have had a full year beyond what they hoped for together (or as together as they can be, considering that Ray cannot even come home to visit).

Until Lizzie weighs in with an informed opinion, we wait and pray. I have asked for Ray to be put on the Old Mission prayer list, and I would ask you to pray, too. It is difficult to know what to pray for since Ray, even if he regains consciousness, will never be able to come home, will always be tied to a dialysis machine, and will likely be in pain much of the time. Since God knows better than I do in all cases, I personally am praying that God will do what is best for Ray. No matter what we personally would like to see happen, the rest of us really are insignificant in this instance. I am sure that God will take good care of Ray without prompting, but I like to pray about it, anyway. I love the support and guidance.

So, with the exception of the Quick Takes and the MMM, I plan not to spend time blogging but being available to my family and to Noelle. (I will be home on Saturday.) Life itself is special, and we should take time to acknowledge that and show our reverence for what God has given us. It is unfortunate that we tend to do so only when Death looms or has completed its reaping. Nonetheless, better now than never.

Quiet Magic

People helping people. Now, that's magic. Maybe even God using them to create a miracle or two.

I have come across two posts about Christmas help via Tweet for a mother and 9-year-old son, living in a van, which was towed, leaving them with nothing. God's good helper, Mark of the Hardly Normal blog, jumped in, after learning about it on Tweet. Pastor Matthew Barnett of Los Angeles Dream Center, after reading the Tweet, met the family at Walmart. Clothes and a Christmas toy were the result.

I cannot tell the story as well as those who were directly connected with it, so I will simply post the URLs and urge you to go to those links. It will be well worth the time and the extra effort to hop on over to another blog/site.

(1) A post on Kat's Korner: InvisiblePeople Tells Homeless Stories--And Changes Lives

(2) The original story with tweet comments and a youtube interview on Mark's site: Magic of Twitter Brings Miracle to Homeless Family

I would also add that Mark, who describes himself as a long-term grinch, now uses a smiling grinch as an avatar!

Ordinary Heroes

I would like to bring your attention to a wonderful Christmas story of people helping a family in trouble. You can read it at the Ordinary Hero Blog: here. (Do read the story; you will find surprises there, including the fact that while volunteers were turning the house into a home, the mother gave birth to a baby desperately in need of prayer -- and that result was amazing, as well. It is, indeed, a real Christmas story.)

Merry Christmas to all of you -- and may your holiday days be as fulfilling as this one was to the ordinary heroes who turned a house into a home for a family in need.

D. C. Employee Delivers Christmas Tree to Snow-Bound Family

Until Sunday, Victoria Dawson's faith in the District government -- epic snowfall or not -- hovered somewhere around zilch. Then Toran Felder, a gust of holiday magic dressed as an employee of the D.C. Department of Public Works, rang her doorbell.

"Oh, my God," Dawson said, bursting into laughter. "Oh, my God."

The man from DPW was holding a Christmas tree.

Like a lot of people in the Washington region, Dawson, a public school teacher, awoke that morning on a street buried under a foot or two of snow. She spent hours outside with her two kids and their neighbors, kibitzing as they drank hot chocolate, ate brownies and shoveled.

After 14 years on Asbury Place NW, a one-block street in American University Park, the last thing she thought she'd ever see was a District snowplow. One year, the neighbors chipped in $20 each to hire their own. "We were trained by the Barry administration to expect nothing," Dawson said.

On Sunday, about 11 a.m., a rumble could be heard around the corner. Could it be? Dawson ran toward the racket, jumping up and down, flailing her arms as if she were being rescued from a desert island. Here came the snowplow driver, making the turn onto their street until . . . he got stuck. Eventually, he backed out, promising that another plow would be along.

"I thought, 'Yeah, it's not possible to be lucky twice with the District,' " Dawson recalled, "not in one day."

Two hours later, a second plow arrived, only to get stuck as well, which is what brought Felder -- a burly, $54,000-a-year supervisor -- to the rescue, barking orders with the booming voice of a stage actor.

Turning to the neighbors, Felder joked that another 18 inches of snow was on the way, which prompted Dawson, a single mother, to remark that she'd probably never get herself shoveled out, she'd never get her kids' Christmas presents, she'd never get a Christmas tree. The man from DPW turned to her and launched into a sermon of sorts, the one he delivers to each of his seven children, his two ex-wives and anyone else who will listen. Every day that there's food on the table, every day that there's a roof overhead, that's Christmas, Felder said.

"We were just charmed," Dawson said.

And then he turned to her and asked, "Do you need a tree?"

She blanched. No! she stammered. Yes! No!

"I'm going to get you a tree," he said, and before Dawson knew what was happening, Felder had jumped into his pickup and disappeared. He didn't say when he would return -- he was a bit busy that day, to say the least -- but he promised it would be before Tuesday.

Felder, who has worked for DPW since 2000, said he is prone to random acts of charity. During a recent shift, he said, he came upon a bedraggled man going through garbage and took him out for a meal at a Kentucky Fried Chicken restaurant.

"It's the way I grew up," said Felder, who was raised in Seat Pleasant, the son of a construction worker.

In Dawson's case, Felder said when reached on his cellphone Wednesday, buying her a tree "just felt like something I needed to do. I wasn't looking for any kudos, believe me."

An hour after leaving Asbury Place, Felder was on his regular route when he spotted a tree lot on Massachusetts Avenue. "Man, I got a lady who needs a tree," he told the tree man. "Can you give me a nice price?"

For $30, Felder drove away with a tree nearly six feet tall. A co-worker in the truck with Felder looked at him and said, "Man, I don't believe this."

Dawson had a feeling that Felder would return, but seeing him there in her doorway, holding that tree, was astounding. The visitor asked about her kids and their ages -- 11 and 15 -- and promised to return with gifts, which he did Wednesday -- a Michael Jackson CD for one, Earth, Wind & Fire for the other, and a scarf for the teacher.

Dawson offered him money for the tree, but he waved her off, leaving her slightly embarrassed over her good fortune and reveling in the magic of a Christmas week encounter on a snowbound street in Washington.

This article, written by Paul Schwartzman, appeared in the Washington Post December 24, 2009.

Fly Away, Flu!

I may not be blogging for a couple of days. The flu, or what seems to be the flu, has moved in with us and has taken over my agenda -- well, almost. I am working from home. Let's see, that would really be: dozing, doing, dozing, doing...zzz... I did manage to drag myself to the mission kitchen yesterday to clean the pots and pans from the town's Thanksgiving dinner. Donnie and I ate in a corner to avoid coming into contact with anyone else although he was not then ill, and no one but I wanted to scrub the pots and pans, so I was pretty much alone. (Fortunately, I was not feeling quite as bad yesterday as I am today.) So, I have decided to take a long sleep break until the flu flies away! See you post-hibernation!

Why This Blog?

This blog is an outgrowth of my posts on almsgiving and, beyond that, personalized help to the poor (often, in my case, using God's credit card) and is meant as a vehicle to share the results of all those who are willing to take up the challenge to go beyond throwing money at the hungry and homeless. Let's get to know them, to give them dignity, and to provide them with respect. The challenge is the one that St. Francis threw down and took up: to eat together with the outcasts of society (in his case, mostly lepers) and through getting to know them in this manner, treating them as the same children of God that we all are, no less worthy of love and kindness than ourselves.
The challenge: Invite someone who is homeless and hungry to dinner once a month. (More often, if you can afford it, is, of course, wonderfully fine!) Get to know that person one-on-one.

And then, if you are so inclined, report here about the person you got to know and how that person has brought some meaning into your life and contributed to the world in spite of being hungry and homeless. There are two ways of doing that. Send me a post by email (elizabeth.mahlou@gmail.com), and I will add a graphic (or use yours) and post it, linking it to whatever site you wish. Or, simply leave a comment.

All comments are welcomed. There is no moderation enabled. I will keep this blog open to comments in this manner unless I encounter spammers.

So, forward march! Go out and feed a hungry person (emphasis on the word, person), and let's chat about what happens when God leads us to those who may have nothing today but will some day inherit the earth!