Tag: sacrifice

Becoming the Healer

Image by skeeze from Pixabay

“I never ask a wounded person how he feels; I myself become the wounded person.” Walt Whitman in Paper Lanterns.

When I was in eighth grade, my middle school principal asked me a very specific question – a question I have never forgotten.. He had a habit of dropping into classrooms unannounced and chatting with students. It was intimidating to be singled out for his questions. It was just the two of you – the principal and you before the whole class. When he called your name, you stood in his presence and waited for his question of the day.

On that day in particular I was at the chalkboard, at the request of my teacher, to explain how to solve what I then considered a very difficult math problem. So I was struggling with the math when Mr. Klein (name changed on purpose) very quietly entered the classroom and silently watched me as I nervously tried to explain the method and reasoning behind my solution. I was fairly confident I had arrived at the correct answer but my explanation apparently did not satisfy Mr. Klein’s understanding of my methodology.

His first question was direct and to the point – “Mr. Hutchison, are you certain that you have solved the problem correctly?” So I went for the gold., “Yes sir I am sure of my answer.” Mr. Klein shot back, “Are you certain enough of your answer that you would bet your life on your work and your solution? Would you bet your life on your thinking and your conclusion?”

Mr. Klein expected an answer. He wasn’t leaving until he heard my answer. “Yes sir, this is the right answer.” He turned to the classroom teacher who was taking great pleasure in seeing me on the hot seat (the reasons for that will be the subject of another blog post someday) and asked her, “Is Mr. Hutchison’s answer and his explanation correct? She too, was intimidated by the principal so she spoke in a low, subservient way – “Yes Mr. Klein, the answer and his explanation are correct.”

I thought I was off the hook – question asked and answered. I had firmly stood my ground before the principal. He was no match for me. I was just about to sit down at my desk when the principal came to my side and looked me straight in the eye. “Mr. Hutchison, you quickly agreed to bet your life that you had the correct answer. What if you had been wrong, with the wrong answer and the wrong explanation? Would you have kept your word and given up your life?”

Mr. Klein continued, “Here is a question I want you to seriously consider today, and as you grow older. What do you value enough that you would willingly sacrifice your life for it?” This was a rhetorical question as he continued without expecting me to answer this question. “Life is so very precious and you ought to be clear about the things for which you would sacrifice your one life,” Mr. Klein said. “So listen again to my question – what do you value so much that you would willingly sacrifice your life for it?’ He paused and then went on to explain – “greater love has no man than to lay down his life for a friend.” He asked me to repeat what he had just said – “greater love has no man than to lay down his life for a friend.”

I never forgot Mr. Klein’s question concerning what I valued enough to willingly, intentionally, sacrifice my life. And I never forgot what he said next, what I found out later was a scriptural reference – “greater love has no man than to lay down his life for a friend.” Later on in my life, I have studied that scripture and its context.

You and I meet people every day who are wounded in one way or the other – wounded in mind, body, or spirit. It is part of my being, insofar as I can, to help soothe the wounds and to offer what healing I can, to those who are wounded. Healing begins when we offer our presence to those who are suffering in any way. Healing begins when the wounded, suffering one knows that he or she is valued by another person – a person who is willing to be a companion on the road to healing, to the end of suffering.

It is a far cry from laying down my life for another to show one who is wounded some kindness and compassion. Every life should have a noble purpose. Mr. Klein, so many years ago, helped me define the noble purpose I have chosen. What do you value so much that you would willingly sacrifice your life? As you ponder that question – do all the good you can for as long as you can. Be a healer. Take on the wounds of another so that you and the other person can both be healed.

Never Hope Alone

 

NEVER HOPE ALONE

I have been paying attention lately, listening for the pronouns folks use when they talk about hope.  By far, the pronoun I hear most often is “I”.  As a result, I have begun to wonder if hope is a solitary endeavor, something one covets for oneself.

Continue reading “Never Hope Alone”

Memorable Day Part Two

A Story in Three Parts – A Memorable Day

Part Two – The Terror Intensifies

At some point, as we were nearing what looked like a huge hangar, one of the guys on the shuttle bus asked me what oil rig I was going to work on.  In my pocket I had the information he was asking about. I should have memorized it.  He then gave me some unsolicited, helpful hints concerning what I should do when the bus stopped.  “Get off the bus, go inside and find the group of chairs under the sign with your rig’s name and number on it.  Just wait and someone from that rig will let you know what you have to do next.”   He shot off the bus and disappeared into the building in front of me.  I tried to follow him, but he had already disappeared into a sea of men, all blending together in a huge mass of activity, frantic motion, and confusion.

The intense level of the noise in the building was overwhelming.  This was no normal airport waiting room complete with snack bars and comfortable padded seats, CNN on the television screens.  It was quite stark in all respects and unwelcoming to the travelers it housed.

Everyone but me seemed to know you brought your own food and drink, or you did without.  Some guys had cassette players and headphones.  Most everyone looked instantly bored.  I had no food or drink or cassette player.  I was far from bored.

I found my place and sat down.

No one talked to me.  They had to have noticed me, didn’t they?  A voice came over the PA system, “Loading for Shell Platform #35, Gate 7.”  With that a group of about twenty men gathered up their backpacks and small carry-on bags and proceeded to the gate whose number had just been called.  I watched carefully to observe what was happening.  When my time came, and my rig was called, I wanted to look calm and casual, so no one would suspect I was the new guy.

As they approached the gate, every worker was patted down.  Everything in the workers’ pockets, jackets, and carry-on bags was emptied in front of an agent from some governmental agency.  It was a very thorough inspection.  One by one, each man moved on, entering another room.

I could see each guy being given some weird red suit to climb into.  The strange garment looked like a cross between a space suit and a very expensive wetsuit you might use for scuba diving in very cold water.  As I watched guys maneuver, after putting on the red mystery garment, it was easy to see the suit was very heavy and made moving about a laborious task.  Then, one by one, each worker was patted down again and disappeared out the back of the building.  What lay beyond that door was, for the moment, unknown to me.

Another rig’s number and gate were called; another twenty guys got up.  They shuffled off towards their gate.  They followed the exact procedure the crews who went before them had done.  A new group of workers was called about every ten minutes.  An hour passed.  Groups of men would disappear out the back door only to be replaced by new groups of guys coming in from an endless stream of shuttle busses.

Just then, an official looking guy came and asked us all to listen up.

He passed out some paperwork which he said he would explain in a minute.  He asked us to be certain we were all going to the rig number on the sign above his head.  Once he was satisfied that we were his guys, he started instructions about how to fill out the papers he had given us.  It was obvious some of the guys seated under my sign knew his talk by heart.  It was also obvious some of the veteran workers in the group, for some reason, needed to be reminded of the required procedures each time they were about to go out on the rig.  And for two of us, this was the very first time we had heard the spiel.

First, we were asked to find the map and layout for the rig on which we would be working.  There were several floor plans to examine depending on the type of rig that would be our temporary home for the next two weeks.  I found my rig.  The floor plan indicated all the emergency exits to get off the rig, the locations of life boats to get off the rig, where fire- fighting equipment was located in the event of an oil or gas explosion, and the general layout of the rig’s other accommodations.  The instructor stressed the absolute importance of knowing where things were and what we had to do in the in the event we were instructed to get off the rig. 

Next order of business was the form that renewed my ever-increasing level of anxiety.  At the top of the form, in large print, was the purpose of the form – CONTACTS IN THE EVENT OF YOUR DEATH OR LOSS AT SEA.  What?  Death or loss at sea?  Nobody told me about that in my job description.  My  imagination already working overtime formed an endless stream of questions I wanted to ask- how would I die?  From what activity or circumstance would I die while working and living on the oil rig?  And how the heck would I be lost at sea?  I wasn’t planning on being that close to the water.  I was told the rig’s main deck was at least 75 feet above the ocean at all times.  That’s as close as I planned to be to the frigid waters of the North Sea.  My terror was real and it was peaking in intensity.  Everyone else appeared calm, nonchalant.  I was so far from mellow the word had slipped from my vocabulary.

Next, I was directed to stand up in front of what looked like a bedsheet hanging from the ceiling.  A very bored looking photographer, who had a nasty smelling cigarette dangling from his lips, took my picture.  I was told my new photo ID would be placed on the back of the “death notification” form I was just now completing.  I noticed there was also a place on the back of the form for my fingerprints.  I had already been fingerprinted before I ever got to Scotland.  They too would be added to my ID at some point.

“Contacts in the event of your death or loss at sea” – I found no comfort or context for pondering the disposition of my remains those words suggested.  Let me ask you this –  have you ever had all your thoughts pushed aside by an all-consuming dread that really scared the heck out of you?  I needed some fresh air.  I needed to get away by myself before I was summoned to the next set of departure procedures.  My grasp on handling current challenges to rational thought processes was rapidly disappearing.  I desperately looked for someplace to run where I could get away and try to get control of my thoughts.

Just then my rig number was called.  All of a sudden there I was following the other guys in my crew, like lemmings through the gate.  All I could think of as I passed through the metal detector were these words, “Abandon hope, ye who enter here.”

End of Part Two

Part Three will be posted next Wednesday, January 24, 2018

 

The Death of a Young Woman

sir-winston-churchill-396973_640“We shall draw from the heart of suffering itself the means of inspiration and survival.”  (Sir Winston Churchill)

A young woman I know lost her sister to suicide.  There was no indication life had taken such a complete turnaround, a turnaround that was unbearable.

The family was crushed in their grief.  Sorrow was their only companion.

Continue reading “The Death of a Young Woman”

Finding Hope One Step At A Time – Step Three

digits-705666_640“The first rule is to keep an untroubled spirit.  The second is to look things in the face and know them for what they are.” – Marcus Aurelius

This is the third and final post in my series concerning the topic of finding hope.  Originally, I was going to end this series with a call to action, calling leadership at all levels of community, to provide all people with good reasons to hope.  In a sense, I was going to ask you all to call upon our leaders to provide and institute actions that would solve the problems that I discussed in the second installment of this series.

Continue reading “Finding Hope One Step At A Time – Step Three”