Material Things

But For the Grace of God

/ James Browning

My memory of that afternoon awakens thoughts of a sunny fall day.  Back in time a dozen years it was one of those in-between days of not cold yet, but not warm either.  Balanced between extremes that Saturday was one of those cool fall days I love most.

Gone are the details of where my then-wife and I were driving to, but clear is the mental image of the ramp she was exiting on.  It was one of those long, circular highway exits that causes you go twenty-five miles an hour around three-quarters of a circle to get to the other side of the road.  Once there I looked down on that side of the in-town freeway to see an old car with a much older man outside taking to someone sitting on the passenger side.

After getting my wife to pull over over safely on the side of the ramp, I got out and yelled down to the stranded man “are you OK?”  A slow Oklahoma country drawl came from the old man’s mouth “No sir, we ain’t”.   He looked harmless enough and had some difficulty walking, so I felt safe headed down the bank of the ramp to get close enough to talk to him.  On my way down I saw he was at least seventy-five or so and his passenger was a woman near his age who I assumed was his wife, which he later confirmed.

As I stopped about six feet away from him, the old man said “once upon a time I was rich, but not no more.  That’s been gone for a long time.  It’s OK, but it’s hard when I come up short sometimes like now”.  I asked what was going on and he answered “we’re trying to get to some family down in Tahlequah.  The gas gauge don’t work and I thought we had enough to get there.  I was wrong and we ain’t got no money.”

About that time I saw the head of a baby close to a year old pop up from the lap of the woman in the car.  The old man said “that’s my great grand baby!  My wife and I been takin’ care of her ‘cause her momma and daddy ain’t no good.  It’s hard on us, but church helps us some and we get by.  I try not to complain ‘cause it’s what the good Lord sent us.  When I hold that little baby I just know God’ll provide for us somehow”.

I asked about credit cards and found they didn’t have any.  I knew what had to be done. Remembering a farm supply store a few miles away across from a mini-mart I told him we’d be back be back in fifteen or twenty minutes with some gas.  At that moment the first smile I’d seen on the old guy’s face lit up.  The smile was missing half the teeth it once had but was warm and genuine.  His relief was obvious.  As I walked back to our car above I heard his “thank you mister” followed by the old woman chiming in right after with “God bless you sir”.

A half hour later we were back with a near full red plastic five gallon gas can.  My wife stayed in the car after we pulled up behind them on the shoulder of the road.  Not much spilled as I poured the gas into the tank of the old car without a funnel.  When done the old guy began trying to start his car.  It took a while and several false starts with the engine spitting and sputtering until it roared to life.  The motor was not running well, but seemed like it could get them to where they needed to go.

After buying the gas can and gas, I still had twenty-five dollars and some change left.  I kept a five and tried to give the remaining twenty to the old man sitting behind wheel of his old car.  He said “No sir, I ain’t gonna take your money.  You already been real too kind to us.  I’m much obliged God sent you.”  I insisted saying he didn’t have enough gas to finish his trip.  He continued to resist and shake his head side to side to say “no”.

Walking around to the passenger side of the car I made eye contact with the old lady and asked her if it would be OK if I gave her the money for the baby.  She looked at her husband and then at me… and repeated looking back and forth between us several times.  She never said a word, but ever so slightly he nodded his head “yes” to her.  I handed the money through the window and as she took it she held back tears and repeated the same four words I had heard her say earlier; “God bless you sir”.  Soon the car steered onto the highway and faded into the distance.

To this day I don’t know why I believed the old man.  He could have been a con artist, but if so he was damn good at it.  Even now I feel certain he was legit.  Real pain and fear are hard to make up.  The exact look in his face when he first looked into my eyes and began to speak saying “I used to be rich….” clearly showed the old man’s anguish.

Even thought my now ex-wife was nervous enough to not get out of her truck, she was proud of what I did that day.  There will always be gladness within that we got to help someone in need, but to an even greater degree I am grateful for the gift I got that day.   Many times I have remembered the old man’s words “I used to be rich…” and how they touched me.  Thinking about those words and the situation I found him is a reminder that nothing on this Earth is permanent.  Tough times harder than we can even imagine are never far away from happening. The possessions I own, the money I have, the good health I enjoy: everything could all be gone in a blink!  I am grateful my memory of the encounter with the old couple is so vibrant yet today.  Each time I recall it my mind whispers softly to my soul, “There but for the grace of God, go I”.

Courage is as often the outcome of despair as of hope;
in the one case we have nothing to lose,
in the other, everything to gain.
Diane de Pointiers

First posted here 5 years ago on December 6, 2011

Legacy Of Lack

/ James Browning

treasureI don’t want whatever I want.
Nobody does. Not really.
What kind of fun would it be
if I just got everything
I ever wanted just like that,
and it didn’t mean anything?
What then?
Neil Gaiman

Lack – Deficiency or absence; to be without; to be short or have need of something.

Once upon a time, with roots that go back to medieval marketplaces featuring stalls that functioned as stores, shopping offered a way to connect socially. But over the last decade, retailing came to be about one thing: unbridled acquisition, epitomized by big-box stores where the mantra was “stack ’em high and let ’em fly” and online transactions that required no social interaction at all — you didn’t even have to leave your home.  Stephanie Rosenbloom http://www.nytimes.com/2010/08/08/business/08consume.html?pagewanted=all&_r=0

In childhood I learned a legacy of lack. My family was poor in many ways: financially, morally and spiritually. Such an environment shapes one of two types of people: 1) another just like the others with photo-copied habits and beliefs or 2) someone who does their best to be the opposite of what they saw and experienced. It has long been my desire to be one of the latter. I have consistently applied myself to being so, although in ways not nearly as successfully as I wish.

Four  ‘extra’ pair of unworn jeans, three new ‘backup’ cases for my iPhone, four ‘replacement’ Timex “Indiglo” watches, eight or ten new pair of drug store reading glasses ‘for when I need them’ and so on. All of those things are in my possession now. If thinking about them did not convince me I had a “little problem”, writing them down certainly did.

Always I have told myself I buy ‘extras’ because I like something very much and want to have ‘replacements’ on hand when what I am using wears out. “They stop making what I like” has often been reasoning I add to my pile of logic. When I step back a bit and take a broadened view I can see stirred into my thinking is not only what I consider completely rational. “Perception of future lack”, “conspicuous consumption” and even “low level greed” is mixed in as well. Ouch, that hurts!

My plans do not include suddenly giving my “backups” away to charity, although I will continue what has been my past practice: give to friends when they are in need. What I have now is front of mind awareness of my tendency to “buy stuff”. With awareness can come understanding. With understanding can come change. Further, it is important to be thankful I have the ability in the first place to purchase the majority of my wants. What matters is what I do with it!

As I open more to learning and practicing wise and prudent ways of being, lessons in the classroom of wisdom continue to arrive in an ever-increasing quantity. I am indeed truly and deeply blessed. I have no clear spiritual understanding or profound concept of God and the Universe to be overtly causing my growth. But deep down I suspect all are at work though my porthole of gratitude. Only when the student is ready can he be taught.

…what you need
and what you want
aren’t the same things…
Cherise Sinclair

Freedom and Choice

/ James Browning

A futurist’s comments I read about fifteen years ago predicted one day the number of big stores where you go to buy things would be far fewer. The suggestion was made that instead of going to Sears or Best Buy to make a purchase, in the future one might pay admission to a “display store” that had one each of many things to peruse. A choice made could be bought on the spot but only with delivery later to the buyer’s home within a few days.

A couple of the major Internet sellers are experimenting with same day delivery in New York City this holiday season. Things are changing!

The futurist also predicted grocery stores much smaller than what we have now would become popular for two reasons: 1) Some people don’t like all the walking and searching necessary in big box stores and 2) a good number of consumers actually want LESS choices. Smaller stores have always been a factor for the inner portions of major East Coast metropolitan cities. Same is true in Europe to an even greater degree for cities and towns of all sizes.

Most people equate choice and freedom. It seems so reasonable. Freedom means you are free to choose, right? It means you are free from restrictions. If you can’t choose, then you are not free. And it would seem to follow that the more choice you have, the more freedom you have. But it doesn’t work out that way.

The more options you have, the more energy you have to invest in making decisions. Which shampoo? Which car? Which dress? Which restaurant? Which movie? Your energy and attention are consumed by these decisions, and you have less left with which to live your life.

What does choice give you? One answer is that choice makes it possible for you to shape your world according to your preferences. All this does is to enable you to fashion a world that is an extension of your own patterns. With modern technology, you can weave a cocoon of your preferences and rarely run into anything that contradicts them. You end up isolated from the richness and complexity of life.

What is freedom? It is the moment-by-moment experience of not being run by one’s own reactive mechanisms. Does that give you more choice? Usually not. When you aren’t run by reactions, you see things more clearly, and there is usually only one, possibly two courses of action that are actually viable. Freedom from the tyranny of reaction leads to a way of experiencing life that leaves you with little else to do but take the direction that life offers you in each moment. From an article in the Winter 2012 Tricycle Magazine titled “Freedom and Choice: Breaking free from the tyranny of reaction” by Ken McLeod.

Thoughts of simplifying my life are getting stronger year by year, which is odd since I have spent my adult life accumulating. In my last move it became readily apparent what a burden “all my stuff” has become. I’m a single man who lives alone in a home of over 3000 square feet filled with stuff that took two moving trucks and six men fourteen hours to load and unload. I only moved a mile and a half!

When I read what I just wrote, I feel a bit ridiculous made worse by the knowing I have a big rental storage unit for things my home has no room for. I am grateful for the growing realization and acceptance that one day all of my stuff will be someone else’s.

The model of ownership,
in a society organized round mass consumption,
is addiction.
Christopher Lasch

Finding Meaning In What You Have

/ James Browning

Sitting here this morning in the lap of plenty, I began to think about looking for a new sofa for the den. The one there has seen much better days. The impressions on it made where people frequently sit are pronounced shallow craters. At the rate the couch’s support is sinking, soon sitting on it will place one twelve inches off the floor stuck in a butt-dent of foam and fabric.

Thinking about buying a new couch, sparked the memory of the first “new one” I ever owned in my late twenties. Previously all my furniture was hand-me-down, purchased used through the classifieds or bought at a second-hand or thrift store. As was the style around 1980, the couch was covered in valor and deep burgundy in color . My then wife and I purchased it on credit which took us eighteen monthly payments to pay off. I LOVED that couch. It was well cared for, valued above any other piece of our household furnishings and visitors were the only ones who got to sit on it.

In the thirty years since, at least eight to ten other couches have come and gone from my home with none valued as that burgundy valor couch was. From the vantage point of now, I look back and see easily why I held it in such high regard. The couch was the first truly beautiful piece of furniture ever owned and took lots of sweat to pay. It was sense of accomplishment, appreciation and gratitude that fueled how I felt.  

Financial well-being is nothing more than a balancing act on the back of circumstance. You can be thrown off at any time.

If you know how to be poor with dignity and grace, nothing short of massive financial disaster can disturb your peace of mind.

Knowing how to be poor means developing an unerring instinct for the difference between what is essential and what is only desirable. It means knowing how to take control of your life – how to repair and maintain the things around you, how to purchase wisely and well, how not to purchase at all when you do not have the means to do so, how to take joy in the simple pleasures of life.

It means not getting caught up in what is lacking, but finding meaning in what you have. It means knowing how to live with style and creativity without basing your life on money. From Simple Truths by Kent Nerburn

When I had little, everything was valuable. As plenty came nothing has ever been valued as much since. Stepping back a little, the thought comes that abundance is numbing even with the best of appreciative attitudes. This morning the awakened sense of the way things are makes me stop and think. With all sincerity I hope those thoughts help me to know great gratitude for the new couch from the very moment I find it, make the purchase and until it is tired and completely worn out.

Be thankful for what you have; you’ll end up having more.
If you concentrate on what you don’t have, you will never, ever have enough.
Oprah Winfrey

Improved Means to an Unimproved End

/ James Browning

Living in a country where I have been programmed to consume, it’s difficult not to indulge to or even past the point of what I can afford. Things have not always been so in this country. Somewhere in the last hundred years or so American culture went from pursuing our needs to one of chasing our wants. Hence, the concept of a “standard of living” came about which is made possible by all who want to sell stuff at a profit.

It is evident to me I don’t need most of what I have, but have been advertised into a little bit of insanity about raising my “standard of living”; having more stuff, newer stuff, better stuff or more expensive stuff. Like a hamster on a wheel I have gone round and round trying to satisfy an insatiable desire. There is nothing wrong with wanting, but what I do about those desires matters.

As one friend said to me years ago, “having lots of stuff is OK, as long as the stuff does not have you”. Having grown up poor it has been easy for me to grow emotionally connected to my stuff as I have succeeded and progressed professionally. Having “stuff” is part of my “other esteem” issue when things outside me sometimes get substituted for where my self-esteem should be. Just recognizing I do that and accepting it has been a healthy step.

Now days I sometimes finding myself feeling burdened by all the things I have. Moving out of the country for a year a while back I was amazed how much storage space was needed for my stuff. No storage unit was large enough. I had to rent a warehouse!

What I hang on to actually shapes my life to an extent. The stuff determines to a point how I spend my money, where I live, what I do and don’t do and even when I do it. Honestly there have been times when I yearned for the youthful days when everything I owned would fit in my car and the smallest Uhaul trailer I could rent. True or not, I recall feeling freer back then. Certainly youth contributed to that sense, but the lack of things/stuff/possessions/crap/junk, whatever you want to call them, had a lot to do with how I felt.

So what have I done recently? Completed a project of framing items collected for twenty plus years.  My holiday weekend project is to hang them in my home. More stuff to care for and maintain. Alas, my addiction continues, but not without some progress.

I am grateful to recognize my affliction and even understand it a little. Half of facing any issue is coming to realize it exists. There I have arrived and now the difficult work begins over time: making my load of stuff lighter. After all, everything I own will belong to someone else one day. One of the sorting mechanisms I have already discovered for deciding what to keep and not keep is asking myself “I wonder how much this will sell for at an estate/garage sale some day?”

Our inventions are wont to be pretty toys,
which distract our attention from serious things.
They are but improved means to an unimproved end.
Henry David Thoreau

The Shack Out Back

/ James Browning / 1 Comment

There is no memory of ever being in one that was painted. The look was always old wood worn gray by rain, sun and cold. Built for function and not comfort, I remember none that were fancy or adorned in any fashioned. Simple and functional they were placed a good distance from any house for good reason.

Writing about outhouses to some will make me appear older than my years, but such was life in the rural south when I was growing up. My tenth birthday came and went before I remember living in a house with an indoor toilet. The “shack out back” was all we had. Clear in memory is my parents talking about saving up to have a bathroom installed in the house, but the money always ended up having to go for something else.

Potty training was done with me learning to literally sit on “pot” to prepare me to sit on an “adapter” (board with an oval hole in it) that was placed over the bigger hole in the outhouse so a little guy like me would not fall in (a real fear when I was little). Age has a way of making vision backwards cause things to appear either worse or better than they were. For using an outhouse both positive and negative thoughts appear in conflicted memory, but above all I am glad that at least we had that little “shack out back”.

When frost is on the outhouse,
And frozen dew is on the seat;
It’s then that nature’s duty calls
And you move with hurried feet!

You make a quick deposit
Then to the house and fireside
You hurry without fail…
With frozen stuff hanging from your nose
And frostbite on your tail!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Scorned and ridiculed, most lowly old shack,
Your name brings a smile to all without fail,
But, without you, some folks surely would lack,
You, with your catalog, your lime, your pail…

A stark silhouette, ‘gainst meadow or glade,
Flies buzz’in, occasional hornet or two…
Such character, rough planks, from which you were made,
That AMBIENCE, makes minutes seem hours — PHEEWWW!!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A nasty old perch straddles dark, hellish pit,
The least winsome place on God’s good, green earth!
Minds fear a fall into four feet of s_ _ _,
Lungs burst, holding breath for all they’re worth!

This tribute must close, though hardly begun,
We’ve painted a scene both gross and sublime,
Hark! Do I hear some more steps on the run??
To not pay you laud would be such a crime!

The little “shack out back” had many nicknames like the La La, the Garden House, the Privy, the Crapper, the Outdoor Convenience, the Necessesry, the Outback and more. But whatever you call it, that “little house” served me well the first ten years of my life.  I am grateful for its service (and I’m even more grateful when we moved to a house with a bathroom at the start of my second decade on Earth!)

This morning imagining not having an indoor bathroom and having to use a “shack out back” is a very quick way to find simple and humble gratitude on a March 1st winter morning.

Only a stomach that rarely feels hungry scorns common things.
Horace

Quiet Joy

/ James Browning

Give thanks for a little and you will find a lot.
Nigerian Hausa proverb

Still sleepy and only minutes after rising from bed I was headed to the kitchen to make coffee.  As I walked down the hall a greater than usual sense of gratefulness struck me. Now about ten minutes later I decided to make a list of what readily comes to mind today that I am grateful for: 

I am not just alive, but in good health and able to do most anything.

I have a healthy, curious mind that always wants to learn.

The bed I slept in last night that was so comfortable with covers that are clean and warm.

The house where I live that keeps me safe.

Central heat and air that makes my home cozy.

The comfy clothes I am wearing and the great variety of other things to wear in my closet.

Indoor plumbing that allows me to have a working bathroom.

Electricity for my alarm clock that woke me, for the lights that make the dark, light and power my coffee pot.

The dish washer I unloaded while I smelled the coffee brewing.

The trash pickup that comes today I was reminded of as I took a bag to the curb minutes ago.

The computer where I am writing this now. 

A well stocked refrigerator that allows me a variety of choices for breakfast.

I am decadently spoiled having three cars for just the “one of me”. 

I am in love and am loved.

Caring friends I know I can count on to be there for me.

A good job that is challenging and  I enjoy most days.

A television and more channels than I can ever watch on cable and music of all sorts to enjoy.

A stove to make breakfast on this morning.

The pictures in my office that remind me of my son I am very proud of.

The photographs leaning against the walls in the hall that need to be hung knowing I am lucky to have the equipment to have taken them.

The overall peace of mind I enjoy that comes from facing my demons and doing the hard work necessary.

I can afford a cleaning lady who will come today to make my home squeaky clean.

The books laying all around the house and in my library that have been my greatest educators.

Working senses of taste, smell and touch… seeing eyes and ears that hear.  

The knowing without doubt there is a power beyond me, even if I don’t understand it.   

In the fifteen minutes it took me to type the list above of what quickly bounced into my head to be grateful for, my overall mood improved markedly.  And I was feeling good to begin with!  Although it has happened many times, I am still frequently blown away by the positive impact of openly expressing gratefulness.  The abundance enjoyed is beyond what I could ever have dreamed of as a child.

Life has shown me clearly that gratitude truly is one of the most important ingredients of a fulfilling life.  I am thankful for all my blessings and even more so, for the capacity to know gratitude for them.    

There is a calmness to a life lived in gratitude, a quiet joy.
Ralph H. Blum

In the Gaining of Much, Much Has Been Lost.

/ James Browning / 2 Comments

The last decade plus a couple of years has been the most turbulent.  This life adventure includes relocation to a new city from one I had lived in for eighteen years, separation and later divorce, my 16 year-old son suddenly 800 miles away, loss of a job of two decades, semi-retirement, life as an entrepreneur, living on a Caribbean Island, a category five hurricane, second marriage, car accident injuries and recovery, new job, second divorce, rehab for depression and….. whew that’s enough and those are only the major points.

It has been said factually that life is the greatest teacher.  I know this to be true as the last decade or so of study has given me at least one PhD in how to live life.  Regretting anything that has happened would mean regretting who and what I am today.  Finding the peace of mind enjoyed and the balance felt most of the time would not have been possible without the turbulence of the last twelve years.  Even for the actions and behavior I needed or yet still need to make amends for, there has to be gratitude for the teaching tools they were. 

In the gaining of much, much has been lost.  Relationships are gone.  People have left. Possessions have been lost; some have been stolen.  Love that was is no more and in other cases it remains carried quietly and silently.  Some things have been misplaced and some are gone forever, to where I have no idea.  Emotionally I have been crushed and broken open.  A good bit of the person I used to be was banished.  Then I rebuilt myself better and stronger than ever before into the “me” I am today (with the help of many others…thank you!).   

What belongings a person cherishes is often not the most valuable in the sense of monetary worth.  Some of what I have not longer was worth a good deal, but I honestly do not lament it being gone that much.  Recently I began to unsuccessfully sort thought my garage and storage unit trying to find an old trunk.  I had no luck and was completely bummed out about it.  Then just yesterday, I thought to look behind some things in my storage unit and was ecstatic when I found that old trunk.

Actually the container just looks kind of like a trunk and was probably some sort of wooden storage crate originally.  I suspect it had a military origin and was used to house equipment judging from interior.  It was left behind in a house I once resided at in Colorado Springs, the home of a large Army base.  In the early 70’s the ‘trunk’  became the keeper of the treasures of my late teens and early 20’s. 

I brought the old trunk home last night, put it on the kitchen counter and quickly found myself immersed in what was inside.  Thinking for weeks the trunk and all its contents were gone only increased the value of it all.  In three hours there was only time to skim the surface.  The time was spent going through old pictures of people I used to know, old girlfriends, my sisters when they were very little, my brother, old friends and my high school days.  There were letters from family, past loves and even old paycheck stubs from places I worked.  I found newspaper clippings about my early accomplishments, school newspapers, my first checkbook, deposit slips and even old airplane tickets including one when I went back to see an old girlfriend in 1972.  

One collection of my prized remembrances I gathered together and put in their own little box.  These were from the first girl I ever truly loved.  I wrote about that relationship about a month ago.  A photo of some of those treasures now begins that blog:  https://goodmorninggratitude.com/2011/12/21/part-of-loving-is-to-let-go/

I believe it is the growth made in the last ten years that makes these old things so meaningful to me.  Last evening it was as if I was for the first time discovering bits of myself and feeling the emotions denied before.  The contents of the old trunk are not worth more than a few dollars, but when believing it was all lost I would have paid thousands to have them back.  I am grateful beyond words for what has been found!

In my ‘treasure trunk’ was the following, handwritten on stationary paper.  The handwriting is familiar to me, but I can not yet place it.  Maybe in time I will.  Without an author noted the paper contains “On This Day” which I was able to research and find was written by Howard W. Hunter.

This year, mend a quarrel.
Seek out a forgotten friend.
Dismiss suspicion and replace it with trust.
Write a letter.
Give a soft answer.
Encourage youth.
Manifest your loyalty in word and deed.
Keep a promise.
Forgo a grudge.
Forgive an enemy.
Apologize.
Try to understand.
Examine your demands on others.
Think first of someone else.
Be kind.
Be gentle.
Laugh a little more.
Express your gratitude.
Welcome a stranger.
Gladden the heart of a child.
Take pleasure in the beauty and wonder of the earth.
Speak your love.
Speak it again.
Speak it still again.
Speak of it still once more.

Books Can Be Dangerous

/ James Browning / 1 Comment

The city where I live is blessed with a huge used book store that now occupies the majority of a strip center.  Gardner’s is a funky throw-back to another time.  The store has earthy feelings like something from the late 60’s or early 70’s.  A part of the fun is finding things in the cluttered and barely organized manner of the store.   

One of the great things about a used good book store is I become interested in books I might never have noticed in a mainstream retail establishment.  I can’t even begin to list the number of books that came into my life through Gardner’s, but half or more of my favorites were discovered at the store.   

One example is “The Search for Serenity and How to Achieve it” by Lewis F. Presnall.  When I first looked at the plain light blue soft back book, I found it was published in 1959.  My initial impression was I would get little from a 50-year-old book written primarily for alcoholic recovery.  After thumbing through the pages and reading parts highlighted by a previous owner I realized I had incorrectly judged the book by its cover. 

Here are some of the jewels of wisdom I found in the first two chapters of Presnall: 

No one can learn to be at home in his own heaven until he has learned to be at home in his own hell.  

The search for serenity begins with a willingness to discover and honestly recognize the areas in our own lives where we did not quite grow up. 

Crisis brings… a choice:  Emotional growth and survival, or continued stagnation and eventual death.  As long as we continue in a series of unbroken successes we are not apt to obtain the humility necessary to recognize our own conspicuous immaturities.    

Any type of living, any philosophy of life, which adds to inner conflict, is incorrect for the individual who harbors it.   

Every one of us indulges occasionally in self-pity, but no one likes to admit it.  Self-pity is the emotion of covering up.  It is a method we often use to cover up our feelings of aggression and our feelings of guilt.  It is our excuse for failing to face life objectively – an alibi for inaction.  …In the isolation of aloneness, self-pity becomes an easy antidote or compensation for both insecurity and guilt feelings. 

We sometimes confuse niceness for goodness.  

Happiness is not achieved by a frantic search.  Peace of mind eludes us when we pursue it with struggle and tension.  The art of graceful living, the art of mature living, is largely that of learning to utilize both the good and the bad in a positive way.  

From the time of birth… the human organism it subjected to emotional pressure.  Awareness of the external world begins to affect the functioning of the body.  If physical, mental and emotional growth progress together harmoniously, the individual will retain the innate ability to maintain physical health.  It is when the mind and the emotions fail to keep pace with physical development that the body’s functions are deranged or disturbed by a lack of harmony. 

As I look around my office were I sit writing this morning I see books on my desk to the left and right of me, books on my credenza, books in the shelves behind me and across the hall is my library filled with hundreds of other books. Many of them came from my favorite used book store: Gardner’s.  Their prices are downright cheap on most books and many a piece of wisdom has been gained through my purchases there.  I have much gratitude for the store and the staff who run Gardner’s.  To an even greater degree I am thankful for the large amounts of knowledge I have gained and will yet gain through the books I find there. 

Books can be dangerous.  The best ones should be labeled “This could change your life.”  Helen Exley

But for the Grace of God

/ James Browning / 4 Comments

My memory of that afternoon awakens thoughts of a sunny fall day.  Back in time a dozen years it was one of those in-between days of not cold yet, but not warm either.  Balanced between extremes that Saturday was one of those cool fall days I love most. 
 
Gone are the details of where my then-wife and I were driving to, but clear is the mental image of the ramp she was exiting on.  It was one of those long, circular highway exits that causes you go twenty-five miles an hour around three-quarters of a circle to get to the other side of the road.  Once there I looked down on that side of the in-town freeway to see an old car with a much older man outside taking to someone sitting on the passenger side. 
 
After getting my wife to pull over over safely on the side of the ramp, I got out and yelled down to the stranded man “are you OK?”  A slow Oklahoma country drawl came from the old man’s mouth “No sir, we ain’t”.   He looked harmless enough and had some difficulty walking, so I felt safe headed down the bank of the ramp to get close enough to talk to him.  On my way down I saw he was at least seventy-five or so and his passenger was a woman near his age who I assumed was his wife, which he later confirmed. 
 
As I stopped about six feet away from him, the old man said “once upon a time I was rich, but not no more.  That’s been gone for a long time.  It’s OK, but it’s hard when I come up short sometimes like now”.  I asked what was going on and he answered “we’re trying to get to some family down in Tahlequah.  The gas gauge don’t work and I thought we had enough to get there.  I was wrong and we ain’t got no money.”
 
About that time I saw the head of a baby close to a year old pop up from the lap of the woman in the car.  The old man said “that’s my great grand baby!  My wife and I been takin’ care of her ‘cause her momma and daddy ain’t no good.  It’s hard on us, but church helps us some and we get by.  I try not to complain ‘cause it’s what the good Lord sent us.  When I hold that little baby I just know God’ll provide for us somehow”.   
 
I asked about credit cards and found they didn’t have any.  I knew what had to be done. Remembering a farm supply store a few miles away across from a mini-mart I told him we’d be back be back in fifteen or twenty minutes with some gas.  At that moment the first smile I’d seen on the old guy’s face lit up.  The smile was missing half the teeth it once had but was warm and genuine.  His relief was obvious.  As I walked back to our car above I heard his “thank you mister” followed by the old woman chiming in right after with “God bless you sir”.
 
A half hour later we were back with a near full red plastic five gallon gas can.  My wife stayed in the car after we pulled up behind them on the shoulder of the road.  Not much spilled as I poured the gas into the tank of the old car without a funnel.  When done the old guy began trying to start his car.  It took a while and several false starts with the engine spitting and sputtering until it roared to life.  The motor was not running well, but seemed like it could get them to where they needed to go.
 
After buying the gas can and gas, I still had twenty-five dollars and some change left.  I kept a five and tried to give the remaining twenty to the old man sitting behind wheel of his old car.  He said “No sir, I ain’t gonna take your money.  You already been real too kind to us.  I’m much obliged God sent you.”  I insisted saying he didn’t have enough gas to finish his trip.  He continued to resist and shake his head side to side to say “no”.
 
Walking around to the passenger side of the car I made eye contact with the old lady and asked her if it would be ok if I gave her the money for the baby.  She looked at her husband and then at me… and repeated looking back and forth between us several times.  She never said a word, but ever so slightly he nodded his head “yes” to her.  I handed the money through the window and as she took it she held back tears and repeated the only four words I had heard her say earlier; “God bless you sir”.  Soon the car steered onto the highway and faded into the distance.
 
To this day I don’t know why I believed the old man.  He could have been a con artist, but if so he was damn good at it.  Even now I feel certain he was legit.  Real pain and fear are hard to make up.  The exact look in his face when he first looked into my eyes and began to speak saying “I used to be rich….” clearly showed the old man’s anguish. 

Even thought my now ex-wife was nervous enough to not get out of her truck, she was proud of what I did that day.  There will always be gladness within that we got to help someone in need, but to an even greater degree I am grateful for the gift I got that day.   Many times I have remembered the old man’s words “I used to be rich…” and how they touched me.  Thinking about those words and the situation I found him is a reminder that nothing on this Earth is permanent.  Tough times harder than we can even imagine are never far away from happening. The possessions I own, the money I have, the good health I enjoy: everything could all be gone in a blink!  I am grateful my memory of the encounter with the old couple is so vibrant yet today.  Each time I recall it my mind whispers softly to my soul, “There but for the grace of God, go I”.

Courage is as often the outcome of despair as of hope; in the one case we have nothing to lose, in the other, everything to gain.   Diane de Pointiers