Courage – Page 66 – All It Takes Is A Little Love

An Exceptional Man

Published on November 23, 2016November 22, 2016 by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

15171229_10154721230488550_2543187410716779275_n An exceptional man has died. You will not hear about this on television for he was not a celebrity to anyone but those who who knew him well. I was only briefly acquainted with him. He “friended” me on Facebook last June. I accepted his invitation immediately because I was had worked with his son for years. I suspected that I already had a very good idea of what kind of man he was from the many interactions I that I had with his child. I believed that I would like this man very much, and I did.

Donny Wilkins has died. I did not realize that he was waging a battle with cancer during the brief time that he was my friend. He was an optimist and a faith-filled man who spread a message of love and tolerance every single day. I began to look forward to his inspirational posts because they were uplifting in the midst of a world filled with so much anger and hate. I found that I felt a bit better each time one of his entries found its way to my wall. It was as though he was ministering to all of us who were lucky enough to be among those he had chosen to be part of his world. I felt deeply honored to get to peer inside his heart.

I was lucky enough to meet Donny Wilkins because his son, Shaun, attended the high school where I was a Dean. I was the Grade Level Chairperson for Shaun’s Class of 2010 and I tried to become acquainted with each of the students in that group. They were known for possessing an independent spirit and a special sense of justice and Shaun was unafraid to be a warrior for all that is right. He was loved by his peers as well as his teachers. I noticed immediately that he was a brilliant student and a deep thinker. He had a smile that was both innocent and charming. I now know that he inherited that dazzling countenance from his father. He was open and caring, also traits from his dad. I immediately liked Shaun very much. As most teenagers are apt to be he sometimes faltered here and there but mostly he was continuously driven forward by a goal of truly making a difference. This past May he graduated from Wiley College with a degree and high hopes of demonstrating his excellence. I was quite proud of his achievement but understood that he is only at the beginning of what will surely be a remarkable lifetime. Not long after I wrote a blog about Shaun his father asked to be my Facebook friend. That is when I truly understood how Shaun had become the wonderful person that he is.

Shaun is the physical image of his dad. Like his father he works hard and strives to always bring a high level of morality and ethics to any situation. He loves God in much the same way that his father did. I have little doubt that he will continue to make his dad a very proud man as he looks down from his heavenly home. Sadly Shaun will know the deep sadness that the loss of a man of such great influence leaves on the heart. He will also have memories of the lessons that his father taught all of us that will sustain him forevermore. His father wisely demonstrated with his every example what it means to be a man of God, a person of honor.

Donny Wilkins was by all standards a great husband, father, grandfather, brother, uncle, friend. The tributes to his character have filled my wall and I love reading them even though it pains me to know that he is gone. If a line from The Wizard of Oz is to be believed then the measure of his love is inestimable because so many loved him. I know that in the very short time that I had the pleasure of being listed among his friends I grew to admire and respect him more and more each day. He possessed a wisdom that is all too rare. His was a selfless way of viewing the world. He worked hard to care for his family and seemed to always place others before himself.

I am going to miss Donny Wilkins. He was one of those rare individuals who bring sunshine wherever they go. I know that the members of his family are grief stricken, especially his son Shaun. There are no healing words other than those that Donny himself recently used. “Dear God, I bring my burdens to you and you know my situation. You know I can’t make it without you. Comfort my heart, give me strength, and help me carry on. Amen.”

Donny has more than earned his wings. He is already watching over those who loved him. I am the better for having known this man as are all of us who had the privilege of “walking” beside him. May he rest in peace and may his family take heart in knowing just how special it has been to have such a man in their circle of love.

My Glass

Published on November 22, 2016 by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

half-full-glass Last week amid new comments of angst from some of my grieving progressive friends one of my cousins noted that I tend to roll with the world’s punches because I am a “glass half full” kind of woman. That is certainly true. I cling to my optimism even in the face of daunting odds but my outward calm is not always as easy to come by as it may appear. In fact, I often vent privately before I am able to emerge publicly as a paragon of reason and good cheer. The members of my nuclear family can attest to this little known aspect of my character with countless examples of times when I actually behaved badly at home and then pulled myself together for the outside world. Ultimately I always come to the same conclusion that everything is going to be alright but it often takes time for me to get there.

I suppose that my generally rosy outlook on life came early in my development. My father’s death did more to direct the evolution of my character and my thinking than any other event in my life. At the age of eight I was hardly able to deal with tragedy like an adult and yet I somehow did. I felt a responsibility to my mother who was broken and unrecognizable and to my brothers who were far too young to understand exactly what was happening. I suppose it was then that I first realized that our world was not going to end even though that certainly appeared to be the case.

Family and friends came to our aid just as if a clarion call had resounded over the land. We were not alone, not for one minute. I have never forgotten the kindnesses that were showered on us. Even though the first days and weeks and months without my father were some of the most difficult and horrific of my life, we eventually gelled as a different kind of family. My mother regained her spirit and strength. We took baby steps together and before long we were sprinting with the confidence that we were going to make it. I knew then that looking forward and believing that there is a bright future becomes a self fulfilling prophecy. We found the security that we needed because we were convinced that we would do so. Had we simply pulled back into a cocoon of hopelessness the results might have been tragically different. Holding on to dreams of better days was our route out of the sadness that initially consumed us.

Because the cadence of life is rarely routine I have encountered countless moments that overwhelmed me. I allowed myself the luxury of fretting and railing at the heavens when I was with the people whom I had learned to trust implicitly. I knew that they would never turn on me no matter how ridiculously I behaved. They saw me at my lowest points when my behavior was akin to that of a petulant toddler. They gazed at the cracks and flaws that I carry in my soul. They allowed me to free the poisons that were attempting to overtake me. They heard me crying in the bathroom or throwing objects at a wall. They endured my tantrums out of love and sometimes laughed with me when I finally realized the ridiculousness of my outbursts. Once I had faced down the emotions that were clouding my ability to reason I always found the answers that I needed. The storms passed and the sun rose again.

I’ve had some minor irritations of late, issues with things either lost or broken. So many disappointments piled one on top of another that I finally lost my cool. I wanted to clean my carpet for the Thanksgiving festivities and so I brought my handy dandy Bissell carpet cleaner in from the garage, filled it with shampoo and merrily began the process of freshening my floors only to realize that the machine was not working properly. I made a few adjustments with no success. My husband came to the rescue but after several attempts to get the mechanisms actually doing their jobs we came to the conclusion that the carpet cleaner was broken. I was appalled because I had only used it a few times. My daughter had warned me not to purchase it. Hers had similarly died long before it should have. I became infuriated. I wanted to smash the offending appliance to pieces. I thought of taking it to the garage and beating it with a hammer. The idea of using it for target practice was enticing. I imagined it filled with holes that I had made. By the time that I had described all of my evil thoughts to my husband I was cackling with impish glee and resigned to the reality that I had made a bad purchase in spite of being counseled not to do so by my daughter. I placed the offending carpet cleaner on the curb and made somebody’s day because it disappeared in the dark of night. I truly hope that they have better results with it than I did.

I’ve chased my mother down the street when she was in a full blown state of mania. I’ve sat beside family members while they breathed their last breaths. I’ve lost the best of friends and missed them so much that my heart felt as though it would burst and I would surely join them. I’ve felt pain so terrible that I wanted to stop the world and get off for a time. My trials have been no different from those of anyone else. They are simply part and parcel of the human experience. They come and they go as inevitably as sunrises and sunsets. Never once have they overtaken me to the point of hopelessness. I certainly don’t intend to allow the tragedies that I experience to deny me the triumphs that I believe will always follow. I cling to my optimism because it has never failed me even when I have been the most hurt. It is centered on the love that is ever present around us. I find it over and over again even in the darkest hours.

I have a friend who lives in a small town in Georgia. Shortly after arriving there to begin a new phase of life her husband had a stroke and has been bed ridden ever since. What was to be a happy time has become an endurance test for her. She spends her days caring for him and worrying over the business of keeping the two of them safe and secure. She has found great kindness from strangers over and over again. People have learned of her plight and done the most remarkable things.

Someone brought her a turkey for Thanksgiving which she quickly decided to share with the people who live in her apartment complex who have no place to go on the holiday. Her idea quickly evolved into the making of a party and generated excitement where there had once been gloom. A couple that she barely knows will travel almost two hours to Atlanta early on Thanksgiving morning to meet her husband’s son who is flying in to visit with his ailing father. She marvels at the unexpected gifts that the townspeople have bestowed upon her little realizing that they have seen her courage and devotion and want to help. Somehow she has managed over and over again to wipe away her tears and her anger with her situation. She finds little snatches of happiness and goodness that keep her moving slowly forward.

The way of the world is often difficult and rocky but it rarely stays that way permanently. Just when we think that we are all alone someone almost always emerges to give us the comfort we need. We pick ourselves up over and over again and find hope in places that surprise us. Our hurts and disappointments go with us but we don’t have to allow them to dictate how we will view the world. I have found that the glass is rarely empty. I believe that I will always somehow find that tiny drop of promise that will lead me out of any misery that plagues me. I may not be able to control the situations that affect me but I do have mastery over how I will react. I choose optimism. In sixty eight years it has never failed me.

The Rainbow Connection

Published on November 18, 2016November 15, 2016 by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

400px-double-alaskan-rainbow It’s my birthday today which is no doubt why I have been rather nostalgic this week. I’ve found my thoughts returning to my mother and father who taught me so many worthy lessons, sometimes just through their actions rather than their words. Truth be told I owe so much to them starting with my very existence. After all my story would never even have commenced were it not for their love and willingness to share it with one another and then with me and my brothers.

They were so very young when they decided to take on the world together. They were still kids who had only a vague idea of what they wanted their lives to be. When I was born couple of years after they married my mother was twenty two and my father twenty five. We lived in rented apartments while my father finished his education at Texas A&M. Both of them doted on me. I don’t exactly remember their attention but old black and white photographs confirm my belief that I was loved.

My mother kept track of my milestones in a baby book that bears her carefully crafted notations on my progress. She kept every card and photo from my early days in an album that I still have. I sense her joy on those pages and see that the love that surrounded me came not just from my parents but from a great big extended family and a host of friends. That love became the foundation on which my character was built brick by brick.

My father wasn’t around for very long. By the time I was eight years old he had died. I never forgot how much he enjoyed reading and those wonderful moments when he would sit on the couch sharing his favorite stories and poems with me while we snuggled. I suppose that my own love of books was born in those moments and it has been a way for me to keep his essence alive in my mind.

He was a man who did many things very well. He loved to fish like his mother and never came home from an expedition without a stringer full of catches that Mama would fry up for countless dinners. He was an artist with handwriting and printing that rivaled the monks of old who copied manuscripts. He built models of houses and buildings, miniature versions with tiny details. He was a student of history with a memory for facts and dates that was uncanny. He had many friends whom he entertained with an endless round of jokes. Most of all he loved his Texas Aggies with unquestioned loyalty. Weekends in the fall were devoted to following their football games on the radio with his best buddy, Lloyd.

He was a conscientious man who arose early each morning to go to work so that his family might enjoy a good life. In the evenings he loved to share stories while we ate. He was so in love with my mother and very proud of me and my brothers. Still he had a kind of adventurous itch that came from constantly moving when he was a boy as his father searched for construction work. Somehow he was never quite content with the idea of settling down. He always seemed to be dreaming of travel and the next move. I suppose that it was only fitting that he would be out and about on a summer evening driving aimlessly in his car when he went into a ditch and died instantly.

My mother had a childlike innocence about her. She was the youngest of eight children and had been adored by her entire family. She was a bit spoiled but in a good way. She was always self assured and certain of herself. She was a romantic who was madly in love with my father. She enjoyed her life as a homemaker and mother, never having any desire to venture from the home in search of work. She was fulfilled in the role that she had dreamed of living. She had already been an administrative assistant to a judge and a dean of engineering. She was proud of her work but did not need it to feel good about herself. She thought that she would always be a stay at home wife and mother and she did that job as well as she had done virtually everything that she had ever attempted. When my father died she was only thirty years old with three very young children. She was heartbroken in a way that would never completely heal. She dug deep inside her soul and found the strength that she needed to carry on. I know that from that point forward me and my brothers were the focus of her life. There was nothing else that mattered more to her.

She struggled financially and eventually realized that she would have to find a job. She earned a college degree and became a teacher all while somehow managing to run a household and insuring me and my brothers that we would still have a normal life. Her energy seemed boundless and her optimism was infectious. She was an angel in every possible way who was beloved by all who knew her. Our home was always brimming with friends and family who enjoyed her warmth and effervescence. Even though she worried incessantly about finances she never let on to us. She used to tell us that she had a money tree in the backyard and that Jesus loved widows and fatherless children so much that He would always make sure that we had what we needed.

Eventually the stress of being so many things to so many people caught up with her. She developed severe systems of mental illness and my role and hers switched places from time to time. I had to learn how to care for her whenever the depression and mania of that disease took hold. Somehow she never allowed her illness to change her always loving and hopeful spirit nor to steal her innocence. One of her favorite songs was Rainbow Connection from The Muppet Movie. Whenever she heard it tears would form in her eyes and she would smile. The song spoke to who she was as a person.

So as I celebrate on this anniversary of my entrance into this life I think of my parents and the gifts that they gave me that began the evolution of who I am as a person. I am a unique amalgam of each of them along with other traits that I picked up along the way. I am thankful that God chose those two people to create me. They both taught me how to love unconditionally, find strengths within and how to open my heart and my mind to the world. They gave me curiosity and optimism, joy and resilience. They showed me how to look forward and to trust in the goodness of the people who surround me. I’m so very glad that they gave me an opportunity to live and to celebrate the beauty of existence. They were lovers and dreamers who showed me how to find the rainbow connection.

The Sun Will Rise

Published on November 14, 2016November 13, 2016 by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

sunrise I woke up this morning. While that may seem to be a minor accomplishment I know it to be something quite special, a blessing. I have one more opportunity to approach life with generosity and love, to do something outside of myself, to realize what is truly important, maybe even to impact someone who needs a little support to make it through another day. Last week was very hard for me. It began with very personal sadness and ended with worry and concern.

I should know better than most people just how uncertain life can be. I have awakened on a beautiful summer day only to learn that my thirty three year old father died in a car crash. I have watched my mother deteriorate so quickly from cancer that we never even had the opportunity to receive a definitive diagnosis. I have attended more funerals for loved ones and friends than I care to recall. Illness and death is a recurring theme in our world. We know that our days are numbered and yet we allow ourselves again and again to become distracted from focusing on the people in our lives.

Last week I received a frightening text that my son-in-law and my grandson had been in a terrible wreck. The car in which they were riding was totally destroyed in the blink of an eye. If the impact had differed by an inch here a foot there it might have been fatal for them as well. My grandson had difficulty even exiting his seat because the dashboard had pushed so close to him. Luckily all of the safety features of the auto did exactly what they were designed to do and both of my loved ones were okay, at least physically if not emotionally. Kind strangers went out of their way to help and in the end all went well but our family was still shaken by thoughts of what might have been.

Within less than an hour on the same day I received yet another message informing me that one of my cousins was receiving hospice care. He is someone who has been part of my life for as long as I have memories. He was born ten months after I was. We grew up together, sharing our childhoods, our teenage years and our lives as adults. He has been a constant source of laughter for me. He loves to tickle my funny bone with his sense of humor and corny jokes. Even a week after receiving this devastating news I can’t fathom losing him.

Last night there was a remarkable event in honor of another cousin who is battling lymphoma. She is far younger than I am, a mother of two small children who is really just beginning her adult life. She is a woman of incalculable faith but her strength is being tested to its very limits. Those who love her have rallied to her cause. She has earned their attention with the generosity of her heart. She presents a brave face to all of us but I can’t help but believe that there are many times when she is so afraid of what the future will be. I sense that she will be a courageous warrior for her children and I believe that she will win. Still I worry for her and find myself praying throughout the day that she will soon be healed.

The results of the election last week were shocking to me. I never would have dreamed that our next President would be Donald Trump. I stayed awake to hear the final announcement and even laughed a bit at the thought of this strange man leading our country. My inclination was to take his victory in stride. I learned long ago to be resilient. If I did not know how to roll with life’s punches I would have been destroyed by now. It was with great concern that I realized just how many people were suffering deeply because of what had transpired. Their pain was true and visceral.

I am above all empathetic almost to the point of overkill. I actually feel the hurt of those around me. It ties me into emotional knots that bind my mind. For most of the past week I experienced anxiety attacks, insomnia and spasms in my lower back. All of these things are related to the worry that I have for the individuals who feel so lost and confused over what has just happened. While I believe that many of their fears for our future are not going to be quite as bad as they think I understand why they are so worried.

I have written on multiple occasions about the undocumented students that I have taught. They were brought into our country when they were tiny children. The United States of America is really all that they have ever known. Whether or not this should have happened to them is of little relevance. What’s done is done and they had nothing to do with it. To suddenly punish them by sending them back to countries that are foreign to them seems particularly cruel. Most of them have been outstanding citizens. They have earned college degrees and worked hard, asking for little or nothing from the rest of us. Now they are fearful that all that they have ever known will suddenly be turned upside down by a man who has pledged to send them away. Even those who were born here worry that their families will be torn asunder. Their fears are so tragically real and I feel their pain deep down in my soul.

I have taught many Black children. They too wonder how they will be treated in the new political reality. It would be easy for all of us to dismiss their concerns as being unrealistic but I believe them when they tell me that they often suffer indignities. They are so beautiful to me that I sometimes forget that prejudices still exist. They know that even with their educations and their best efforts there will be those who consider them to be less than.

I am acquainted with people who are incredulous that so many of our citizens were able to overlook the offensiveness of Donald Trump and elevate him to the highest office in the land. At the same time I am familiar with others who believed with all of their hearts that Hillary Clinton was easily as bad. Many voters saw their choice as being the selection of the lesser of two evils. They did not pick Trump because they were vicious people but for reasons that made perfect sense to them.

In the aftermath of the election I have been brokenhearted, mostly because of the animosity that I have seen from both sides of the voting public. I have witnessed people reacting in self righteous and smug ways toward their fellow citizens. I have read of instances in which people declared that members of their family were dead to them based solely on the ways they voted. I heard from a former student who is sincerely worried that a civil war will break out in the streets of our cities and towns. He is a young father who only wants his little girl to live in the safety and security that he senses might slip away if we do not find ways to become more united. My heart has felt as if it will break into a million little pieces. It all seems so very wrong.

We have been fighting with each other for far too long. We simply cannot continue to be a split screen nation. I pray for the soul of my country. While I am not a fan of President Elect Trump I want him to prove me wrong. I would like nothing better than for him to pull us together as a nation and bind the gaping wounds that are making us so sick. We need to be able to hear the many voices of our people whether they be liberal or conservative, straight or gay, white or of color, young or old, from the north or the south, the east or the west, urban or rural. I suspect that if we remain unwilling to find ways to reach out to even those whose ideas confound us then we will be in for years of chaos and hurt. I believe that we are better than that. It is time for us to show our better selves for the sake of our children. The sun will rise no matter what we choose to do but our days will surely be sunnier if we learn how to work together once again.

No Greater Love

Published on November 11, 2016November 10, 2016 by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

Greater love has no man that this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.

I cannot even conceive of the courage that it must take to be a soldier. We all too often forget that many of our fellow citizens are in harm’s way in dangerous places even on this very day. They quietly pledge to protect our country and sometimes lose their lives in the process of doing a day’s work. Only last week a young man from Houston was killed in Jordan. He had attended Strake Jesuit High School and the University of Texas. He was known by his friends as someone who was fun and generous. He was bright and talented and had a whole lifetime of possibilities ahead of him and yet he chose to enter the military, an action that he felt was an honor and his duty. His friends and family grieve that he is gone and all of us should feel a sense of sorrow as well. It was for those of us that he never even met that he gave his life.

There were a couple of young men who went to my high school when I was there who died in Vietnam. One went to war shortly after graduating. He was a friendly fellow with an inviting smile. It broke my heart to hear of his death. The other soldier was brilliant. He had graduated from college and had a promising career but he wanted to help in the effort to maintain a democracy in South Vietnam. He too lost his life, a tragedy that touched me in a very personal way because his little brother was good friends with one of my siblings.

At the time that these two soldiers were killed it never occurred to me that theirs had been an act of love. I was too busy protesting the war and participating in rallies. I actually thought that they had been foolish to take part in the conflict. As the years went by I began to see their sacrifice as something sacred. I began to hold them in high esteem. When I visited the Vietnam wall on the National Mall I found their names and ran my fingers over the etching in the stone. I wept. I felt the love associated with what they had done. I spoke to their spirits and thanked them for their service to our country.

I came of age in an era of protest. I thought it noble and fitting to speak against a war that seemed unreasonable to me. It never occurred to me that it was so incredibly easy to do what I had done while the efforts of the soldiers who had been my classmates were monumental. It has been five decades since their passing. Their love of country inspires and humbles me.

I have a long time friend who served as a medic in that same war. I often think of the horrors that he must have seen as he fought to save lives. I suppose that I never expressed enough gratitude for what he did but I can imagine how important his efforts must have been to the soldiers who lived because he was there. I know that he never discusses those days. He came back far more serious and contemplative than he had been. His wife told me that he often had nightmares as he relived the battles and thought of the torn and bloodied bodies that he viewed.

We sit safely in our cities and towns and rarely think of what our fellow citizens of the military are doing. We complain about the unfairness of our country. We criticize and speak of being ashamed of our nation. We refuse to sing the national anthem or salute the flag. All the while the men and women of the Armed Forces are doing the heavy lifting that we don’t want to do so that we will have the freedom to make ourselves heard. They deal with uncertainties and danger as a matter of course. We all too often take them for granted, sometimes even neglecting them when they return home. Even worse is when we insult them by self righteously assuming that they are violent individuals who somehow deserve our scorn rather than our praise.

On this Veterans Day and everyday we should honor the present day military and those who once served. They are real heroes who deserve our highest consideration. They are mostly humble and silent about the work that they have done for you and me. They rarely bring attention to themselves. They will tell you that they were happy to be able to give back to the country and its people.

I see a great deal of whining in today’s world. People continuously complain about what they don’t have and tend not to count their many blessings. They take more note of slights than opportunities. They make degrading comments about our country, its leaders and our soldiers. They have little idea of how safe and secure they are because of the unseen, unsung men and women who are guarding us twenty four hours a day. They rarely think of our military if at all.

Take the time to remember our veterans and our Armed Forces today. Don’t just think of them. Thank them. They won’t ask for your gratitude but I can’t help but think that they will appreciate knowing that their efforts have not gone unnoticed. God bless them and their willingness to lay down their lives for friends that they don’t even know. There is no greater love.