Start Somewhere

By Brenda Black

A new year begins. It must start somewhere. According to history, January 1, fits the bill. When Roman dictator Julius Caesar decided that the traditional Roman calendar needed reform, he enlisted the aid of Sosigenes, an Alexandrian astronomer. He advised Caesar to follow the solar year, like the Egyptians. The year was calculated to be 365 and 1/4 days, and Caesar added 67 days to 45 B.C., making 46 B.C. begin on January 1. There you have it – a start, a beginning that begins each year.

Like the flipping of the calendar page from 2015 to 2016, every journey, each ending and all plans have a genesis. The fact is that nothing happens unless it is initially put into motion. On January 1, the timing is right, the opportunity present annually at this traditional moment to set a course of action. It's time again to S-T-A-R-T.

S – Set a goal. The go-to resolutions typically involve weight or bad habits humans long to banish from their lives. The idea is simple: eliminate the accumulation of a lifetime of poor choices in 12 months or less. By week six, we're not sure why we even tried. This year, I challenge you to think deeper. Plan longer. Look higher and cast a vision different from all those ventured in the past. Dream big! Don't just toss up flippantly the hope that something will change. Set a goal to see something through. Go for it!

T – Take a chance. Do something unexpected, unrehearsed or unfamiliar in 2016 that will stretch you out of your comfort zone. Shake it up a bit and try something new that isn't all about you. Reach out and help someone in need. Forgive someone unworthy of your grace. Extend an offer that can never be repaid. Take a chance on someone who needs a second chance and you might just find you are the one being set free.

A – Answer a call. Now go bigger still. See your small gestures grow into a mission that changes not just one or two lives, but a community. With every act of mercy or aid, see the greater possibilities of how to expand your territory and answer many needs.

R – Raise the bar. Keep it up and set an example. Model being a good neighbor, provide an example of generosity and challenge yourself to always be kind. You are what the world needs most, more now than ever. Set the pace so that others will follow.

T – Take stock. When you look back over this year, count the cost as gain, not loss. See your efforts as investments into lives. With every goal you set, each risk you encounter, the call you answer and the role you play, you are sure to look at the world differently by 2017. And the one most altered will be the man or woman in the mirror that you see come next New Year's Day.

 Start somewhere. Start now. Make this year the beginning of something worthwhile.

A Life Lived Well

By Brenda Black

Funerals are not among my top favorite social gatherings. My ability to empathize deeply makes ministry to the grieving emotionally draining personally. Still, we count it an honor to be there for people when they need us most. Together, my pastor husband and I have counseled and comforted, preached and sung our way through a hundred sad gatherings and sorrowful good byes. How wonderful when those farewells can celebrate life more than bemoan death.

Recently, the mourners came in smiling, laughing and honoring a long and lovely life. Though little Ruthella fell shy of 5 foot, she cast a long shadow over her community and left a legacy. She lived life well for nearly 97 years. That's a lot of time. Time to be born and time to die. Time to plant and time to uproot. Time to tear down and time to build. Time to weep and time to laugh. Time to mourn and time to dance. Time to love and time to hate. Time for war and time for peace. Though she racked up decades of opportunities to do it all, she was content to just do what she did best, and bloom right where she was planted.

Her vast extended family remembered a woman who spent most of that time living, planting, building, laughing, dancing and loving on all of them. She chose kindness, forgiveness and gentleness, whether enduring hefty trials or just every day messes. According to those who knew her best, she never lost her temper, never raised her voice. She just took it all in stride with an easy-going demeanor. Perhaps her longevity was due to her passivity. She let a whole lot roll off her near-to-the-ground shoulders that could have weighed the little lady down. She resisted the temptation to retaliate. As a result, she wore grace as her garment instead of rage. Her pattern must be the healthy path to take. It obviously served her well.

It is a fact, that the opposite is true. A person filled with anger destroys himself and his reputation. Hot-tempered fools self-destruct from high blood pressure, heart attacks and ulcers. They poison relationships and create animosity and enemies.

Hate begets hate. Rage embitters and distances. But a quiet and gentle spirit produces peace and praise. Ruthella's example left a big, beautiful wake of grace.

Frankly, I'd like to live more in her tiny boots than walk in big, worldly shoes. I'm tired of the rage and rants in society. Everybody seems to have a bone to pick. At the drop of a hat, we come out with dukes up and fighting mad over any little thing. “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens” (Ecclesiastes 3:1). I'd just like to see more of it devoted to good things. Maybe if we lived more like Ruthella and less like rebels, always with a cause, we'd live life well and others would want it to be long.

Flight Attendant

By Brenda Black

The airline attendant ushered the pale and trembling young woman down the aisle of the plane. At 33,000 feet in the air, she weaved her way to an empty seat just across from me, where the stewardess cooly motioned for her to take a seat. In her hands, the weary woman gripped a paper sack that matched her pasty complexion. And everything changed that moment on the plane, headed from DC to North Carolina.

While a dark-haired lady to the woman's left pressed herself into the window and never acknowledged her same-row visitor, I reached across the aisle and patted the back of the 20-something, expectant mother. She sheepishly turned her head up and glanced slightly toward me, afraid to leave that little bag of safety. She ventured, “I don't think the baby likes to fly.” Then she resumed position, shoulders rolled forward, head bent and one hand braced against the back of the seat in front of her, while the other pressed the plane's standardized equipment against her quivering lips.

For the next several minutes, I tried to soothe the fear, embarrassment and discomfort of my new charge. I tried to get her mind on other things through quiet, small talk. I rubbed her back and handed her yet another bag. She wore a spaghetti strap, next-to-nothing blouse and finished her not-so-winterized outfit with flip flops on her feet. The tattoos on her arm grew bluer black while what little pink she had rushed its way to freezing fingers and toes. I'm pretty sure the piercing in her nose echoed a metallic ring as hard as she shook from being so cold. When she began to shiver uncontrollably, I took my coat and draped it over her exposed shoulders.

Once again, she gazed upwards with gratitude beyond measure. “Thank you so much,” she weakly said. And I felt at a loss for words. All that I could do was pray for this lonely, afraid, very sick and desperate woman who looked more and more like a little girl.

I tell this story not for self edification. I tell it because that encounter opened my eyes to the human condition that seems more and more prevalent. People are desperate. Many are indifferent. A few are compassionate. Which are you?

What would you do if someone in need were placed at your elbow? Would you cling to the window, cover your nose and never offer a kind word like the woman in the window seat? Or would you offer a friendly gesture, be a knight in shining armor, an angel in disguise, a friend in deed?

This time I got it right and I lovingly reached out and offered comfort to a stranger. But a million times in my life, I've failed.

The reward for taking the time to show tenderness came from a young lady named Camie. When I exited the plane, a warmed and calmer young mother looked up and smiled and said, “Thank you for your kindness.” And everything changed that moment on the plane, headed from DC to North Carolina.

On a Sneeze and a Prayer

By Brenda Black

My head was splitting from the moment my feet hit the floor. Headaches and travel do not marry well and the itinerary didn't include time for divorce. My travel companion, for better or worse and a good thousand miles was to be an excruciatingly bad migraine.

Two hours on the road and the first leg of the journey merged into a baggage check then getting the once-over from a TSA agent who obviously graduated from a training class on face recognition or possibly a staring contest. No bomb in the shoes. No liquid in the bag, no wire under the bra, but I still had the headache. Maybe an overpriced cold turkey sandwich and liquid gold in the form of bottled water would ease the pain before take off. I bid my hubby adieu and assured him I'd be fine, even though I wanted to cry.

I found a place near the window with my gate in sight and a clear view of the luggage ramp. At first I was thrilled to see my bags the first up the conveyor belt, but struggled to interpret the conversation and gestures as each employee paid special attention to my two parcels. By the time I boarded behind wheel chairs, babies, business class and two rounds of ticket holders, the plane was nearly full and available seats scattered and sparse. In spite of the headache, I entered the plane with a smile to match the 

Southwest greeting that welcomed me aboard. Then the long, agonizing walk down the aisle ensued. It's a game of looking for the best prospect. Who looks inviting and who looks like they don't want you near them? I found a kind looking couple in the first third of the plane. He had long legs and preferred the aisle seat, she sat near him selecting the middle. That left the window -- my favorite spot. Only the awkward crawl across two strangers to get there and I could rest.

Our conversation was brief and cordial, a generic ice breaker at best. Half way across the wide horizon, a single sneeze broke the lingering silence. And that kind blonde to my right offered a sincere "Bless you."

It was enough to give me hope. All I needed was courage to ask for something more. My heart pounded with equal intensity to the throbbing in my head. I questioned what God was pressing me to do and nearly convinced myself to not risk it. But He wouldn't leave me alone, so I finally ventured: "May I ask you a personal question? When you blessed me earlier, was that evidence of your belief in prayer and in the power of Jesus Christ?" When she answered with a quick and certain "Yes,"I dared the next request: "Would you please pray for me. My head is splitting and it's getting worse."

Two strangers sat elbow to elbow and silently we joined hearts and sent thoughts heavenward. Knowing that she was covering me, I prayed for whatever measure of faith she had that it be increased. I asked the Lord to bless her and His touch on me would do a greater work in her. I honestly felt that was more important than my own relief! The pain diminished and a sneeze and a prayer later, I knew the Lord was up to something special -- He is always at work! I'm thankful my discomfort compelled me to reach out and I believe if the Lord helped me, He surely touched her as well.

For the remainder of the trip, we talked off and on and found many things in common. By the time hundreds emptied the plane, among them left my new sister in Christ.

Then I figured out why so much conversation surrounded my suitcases. I was the sole passenger remaining aboard for the next destination and those bags were commissioned to a special place in the belly of the plane.

I was alone only a matter of minutes until the plane filled again. This time I watched as one by one they loaded, and among the final ticket holders, God delivered another delightful Christian lady. We praised God for the next short 45 minute journey. I never sneezed but she still blessed me and I her when we parted company!

I met two living for the One while way up and away in the sky. A big headache and a little "achoo" are no match for blessing and a prayer and the body of Christ!

Keeping Kindness Alive & Well

By Brenda Black

I don't set out to do good deeds for the applause. I'm just a natural people helper. I'll jump to aid an elderly person or help a harried parent corral a wandering toddler. I'm quick to lend a hand and don't give much thought to what it will cost me. Oh, I suppose if some overly educated, analytically astute psychologist wanted to pick it apart, they'd probably diagnose my behavior by saying I do it in order to get something out of it. And maybe, deep down, I do. I sure feel better when I see a look of relief or appreciation. I sleep better at night knowing I did the right thing by a fellow human being. It makes me happy making others happy.

Though I don't have an agenda, and it's more of an automatic response, I have to ask myself : Why does it bother me so much when people do not reciprocate kindness or demonstrate basic good manners? And why does it give me such a lift when people react pleasantly? Several days at the state fair is a great place for such a sociological study and self analysis.

My first moments greeting the public as president of the Missouri CattleWomen at the Beef Showcase were met with unexpected kindness. One gentleman started a conversation by asking how things really were going in the beef business. I answered honestly that it's a little rough this year with a drought and high input costs. He went on to show appreciation for the hard work of farmers and ranchers. He told me he knew where his food came from and understood how important agriculturalists are to his life. Finally, this kind person actually blessed me -- literally. And I was genuinely touched by his sincerity.

After several hours of constant people traffic, I took a brief break and strolled through one of the nearby buildings. Ahead of me was a lady pushing an elderly woman in a wheel chair. I quick-stepped past them to get to the door and pushed it open and held it. Neither said a word nor smiled or nodded. And on their heels, a string of 20 people took advantage of my donated door duty. All ages and sizes passed over the threshold and not a single "Thank You." I waited till the parade dwindled and then closed the door and headed on my way, feeling baffled by the lack of common courtesy.

My faith in humanity was restored on yet another volunteer detail. I was the door greeter at the Beef House. Granted, when you are welcoming folks in for a mouth-watering steak, they tend to be in a better mood. But even when the line was half a block long, I met one after another who spoke kindly, smiled brightly and returned gratitude when I assisted them.

Maybe it's simply being observant. To the masses, this gray-haired, slender man seemed invisible. To me he looked like he was in pain. I was right, and stopped to ask if he needed assistance. He thanked me profusely for caring.

It's not difficult to be considerate. It doesn't take a whole lot of time. But it does take heart. Kindness is as old as history. Boaz was a perfect example of such timeless tenderness. “The LORD bless him!” Naomi said to her daughter-in-law. “He has not stopped showing his kindness to the living and the dead.” (Ruth 2:20)

I was blessed by kindness, drained by indifference and energized, even after 12 hours of hospitality one day at a fair, purely because of the way people treated me. So I think I'll keep on doing what comes naturally. Hopefully it helps somebody else have a better day.  

In Honor of the Human Spirit

By Brenda Black

I watched the little brunette perch twenty feet in the air atop a tower of human spirit. Sturdy men and steady ladies pyramided their way center court to the cheers of college sports fans. The stack of flesh and school pride was even more impressive when I watched the diminutive dare devil flipped down to land on two feet and triumphantly lift one and a half arms into the air! All I could think was that beautiful little lady must have been loved by incredible parents who never allowed a birth defect to stand in the way of anything their daughter wanted to accomplish. Her spirit was never suppressed.

There is a story of a school teacher who asked her first graders to draw a picture of something they were thankful for. She thought of how little these children from poor neighborhoods actually had for which to give thanks. She reasoned that most of them would no doubt sketch pictures of turkeys on tables with lots of other food. She was surprised with the paper that one small boy handed in. It was the picture of a human hand, crudely drawn. The other children tried to guess whose hand their classmate had scribbled. One said it was the hand of God because He brings the food to us. Another said it was the hand of a farmer because he raises and grows the food. Finally, when the others were back at their work, the teacher bent over the child’s desk and asked whose hand it was. "Why, its your hand, teacher," he mumbled. Then she recalled how frequently at recess she had taken this scrubby, forlorn child by the hand. She did it with many of the children and never thought much about it. But that little boy did. You see, she refreshed his spirit and he never forgot it.

The human spirit is remarkable, capable of overcoming all odds to rise to great heights! But the human spirit is impressionable. It can be deeply stirred by simple acts of kindness or just as easily crushed from lack of love. I admire those who model this human quality and those who empower it with love and sacrifice.

That's why I get weepy when our nation's heroes go off to war or return home to the welcoming arms of loving family and friends. I wonder what kind of grit and how much courage dwells in the heart of a soldier. Who challenged them to be all they could be? How do those young, left-behind wives continue to patiently uplift their brave husbands and embolden the children who don't understand why daddy is half way around the world. That amazing human spirit that fights for freedom and lives for others and dies for country astounds me! They deserve my greatest respect, my cheers and my thanks. Yet, I fear that simple gratitude will never be enough compensation for their sacrifices and service. But this Friday we can still try. As individuals, as communities, as a nation, we can pay tribute to the American human spirit at its best on Veterans Day, 2011.

“Today, our Nation comes together to honor our veterans and commemorate the legacy of profound service and sacrifice they have upheld in pursuit of a more perfect Union. Through their steadfast defense of America’s ideals, our service members have ensured our country still stands strong, our founding principles still shine, and nations around the world know the blessings of freedom. As we offer our sincere appreciation and respect to our veterans, to their families, to those who are still in harm’s way, and to those we have laid to rest, let us rededicate ourselves to serving them as well as they have served the United States of America.” (Veterans Day 2011 Proclamation)

Some of these noble warriors began as scared little boys in need of a guiding and loving hand to encourage them. Some have returned home with scars and handicaps they've had to overcome in order to stand proud again. But all give us reason to cheer and look upon them in amazement for the human spirit that dwells within them.

May God protect our troops. May we never forget how blessed we are because of their courage, strength and willingness to go into battle. This Veterans Day, please take the time to express due honor. It will do your own spirit good.