Today is my little brother’s birthday. My family never forgets it, though he has been dead over fifty years. He, himself, never got to celebrate even one birthday. He died at the age of nine months. He never walked. He never talked. Physically, he was so weak, he never even learned to sit up. My mother remembered that he only laughed one time – when my older sister was clowning around. His name was Timothy. And, in his short time here, he became unforgettable.
Everyone’s life has an hourglass placed in front of it -- with sand running out. Some, like Steve Jobs, have enough time and creativity and passion to do great things before the sand runs out. Others, like Timothy, only have enough time to change a few hearts. Maybe that’s enough.
If there is any measure of compassion in my heart, or any feeling of responsibility to others, it came from Tim. He needed us. All the money, all of our parents’ time and all our caregiving was for him. He was the first person my sisters ran to after school. I was the lucky one. Any time he was not at the children’s hospital, I got to spend all day with him. I talked to him constantly, told him all my secrets, and he seemed to listen to every word. When he died, I thought I lost my best friend. Yet, all he ever did, was lay there.
My point here is that no one’s life is insignificant. Even little things matter.
If you have helped a person who really needed it …
If you stood by a friend when they were bullied …
If you sheltered an animal that had no home …
… to each of these, you become the most important person in their world at that time.
My father used to say that no man – neither a prince nor a pauper – is better than you. And you are not better than they. You are an equal among equals. Whether you live one year or a hundred years, you matter.
These past three weeks, Americans who may have considered themselves insignificant before, came together one-by-one and asserted their right to live democratically, in a just world with prosperity for all. As I write this, 1,100 cities and towns in our nation have done the same. Simple people in other nations did the same before us. Hopefully, simple people suffering injustice in other nations, will follow.
Let’s pray that this miracle continues. Can I get an “Amen”?
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I’d like to end this by sending out a message of love to all who, for whatever reason, appear to have moved on from our Sunday night virtual gatherings. Is it just me or is anyone else feeling their absence? Heck, even Meteor Blades, though not a praying man, used to pop in occasionally when the spirit moved him. I like to think that, perhaps, they all still lurk occasionally from the back row. Because I miss them. They were important to me.
To the rest of you still present, I hope that some of you might consider signing up to lead the group in the coming weeks. I noticed that there were a number of vacancies on the sign-up list after tonight and I don’t want the doors to close or the lights to go out.