Courage – Page 67 – All It Takes Is A Little Love

Just One More

Published on November 7, 2016 by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

For centuries we have been sending young men into the abyss of war. Sometimes the causes have been noble but mostly the reasons for fighting have centered around politics that the average person found difficult to comprehend. History is stained with the very life blood of our youth. It takes great courage to volunteer to represent a country on a battlefield and even more to actually participate in a battle. It is something that most of us pray that we never have to endure and yet it has been a fact of history. Over and over again the treasure of our youth has had to bear arms against an enemy that they did not know for reasons that they may not have understood. We can almost all agree that war has and always will be hell and should be a last resort.

I am against all forms of violence. I think it morally wrong to abort babies, execute criminals and fight enemies and yet I understand that there are times when killing is the only choice to protect the innocent from danger. I am a conscientious objector up to a point. My faith tells me that if I have to choose between simply watching a despot like Adolf Hitler bullying his way across a continent or taking action to stop him with gunfire and bombs then I have every right to defend all that is good and just. I think that I might be able to set aside my gentle ways to stop such hate from spreading and I certainly commend those who put their very lives on the line in the call of duty. It is a sign of nobility to defend the innocent against aggressive tyrants and I often wonder if I would be capable of rising to such an occasion. I am in awe of those who find the grit within themselves to do so.

World War II was a nasty affair as are all wars but it bore the patina of being a just cause. Here in the United States virtually everyone in the country rallied to fight the despots from Germany, Italy and Japan. Young men joined the military at a fever pitch. High schools, universities and factories were emptied out as our youth eagerly volunteered to join the fight. Among them were my father, my uncles, and a young man from Virginia named Desmond Doss. What made Desmond a bit more unusual than most of his peers is that he was a Seventh Day Adventist who believed that it would be against God’s will to kill. Rather than registering as a conscientious objector and sitting out the war at home he decided to join with the intent of becoming a medic. With a kind of naive belief he actually thought that he would be allowed to accompany his unit without bearing arms.

His training for battle went well up until the time that he was instructed to choose a rifle and learn how to use it. When he refused to do so he became a pariah and the focus of a concerted effort to get him to simply quit. Somehow in spite of the bullying, insults and persecution that he had to endure he continued to insist that he wanted to be of service but simply could not and would not use a weapon. His conviction sent him to a military court where it was eventually ruled that he might be trained as a medic without bearing arms.

Doss’s battalion was sent to the war in the Pacific, a brutal theater where very different cultures clashed in some of the most horrific battles of that era. Their objective was to take a ridge known by the name of Hacksaw. When they arrived the fighting had already decimated entire units. The Japanese soldiers were relentless in their attacks and it seemed as though there would be no stopping them. Over a hundred and fifty thousand Japanese troops had been sent to keep possession of the area and so the battles were fierce. Doss followed his fellow soldiers as they attacked according to their orders. He provided medical aide to the wounded in the middle of a battle so bloody that it was almost overwhelming. Even after his group left to recoup for the night Doss stayed and rescued over seventy five men including some Japanese soldiers who had also been wounded. It was a miraculous and unbelievably heroic feat that earned him the respect of his brothers in arms. For the rest of his life he would tell of how he kept asking God to allow him to help just one more man to safety throughout that long and treacherous night.

Desmond Doss’s story is depicted in the movie Hacksaw Ridge, a brilliant film that brings us face to face with the sheer humanity of war. It is an homage not just to Doss but to all who risk their lives in battle. It slams the viewer into the visceral horror of fighting and asks us to imagine what soldiers have endured from the beginning of time. It forces us to consider questions of faith and to ponder our own beliefs. It is a brilliant work of art and a metaphor for both mankind’s brutality and its humanity. Through the eyes of a Godly man we see the chaos, fear and complexities of wars and those who participate in them.

I left the movie understanding that I had just seen something important. I was shaken and emotional. I thought of all of the people that I had ever known who had gone to war. I wondered what terrible and courageous things they must have seen that changed them forevermore. I realized just how fragile and strong each of us truly is. I was moved to tears as I pondered the importance of treasuring every life as a gift from God Himself. I worried that we humans have yet to find ways of resolving our differences without rancor and hate. The threat of war still looms in our hearts as long as we are unable to set aside our arms and our ugliness, as long as there is evil lurking on our planet. I contemplated our goodness as people as well. It occurred to me that there are individuals like Desmond Doss all around us, those who stand for something bigger than themselves. They quietly and peacefully work to serve us because it is right and just, not for glory or compensation. They are truly exceptional and they far outnumber those who would harm us.

Ours is a world of contradictions and uncertainty. We quietly wonder from one day to the next if we are truly living our best lives. We search for answers amidst noise and distractions. In the end we must do as Desmond Doss did in the middle of chaos. We must listen for the voice inside our souls that allows us to do just one more good thing, just one more.

Transformation

Published on October 27, 2016October 25, 2016 by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

transformations Ellen was an exotic beauty with black hair and deep dark brown eyes that seemed to be flirtatious and mischievous even when she was engaged in a mundane conversation. In her younger days she boasted a perfect hour glass figure but even as she aged and carried extra weight she was still utterly attractive. Her mind was keen and few were ever able to outsmart her. When she smiled she warmed an entire room. People quite naturally loved her. She didn’t have to expend extra energy to entice them but she always did. She was known for her generous spirit and empathy, always the first not just to notice pain and suffering but to respond with kindness. She was a sprite, a free spirit undefined by societal norms. Her confidence was such that she would have treated a famous dignitary exactly the same way that she did a homeless soul. She was one of a kind, a rare individual so blessed with beauty and brains and a bold outlook on life that she stood out even in a crowded room.

Ellen was my mother and she was larger than life in every imaginable way. She was the rock on which the foundation of our family was built, particularly after our father died when she was only thirty years old and we were small children. The trauma of our daddy’s death marked the first time that I saw her flounder. It was frightening for me to watch her grief explode so publicly. For a time she appeared to be a stranger with a faraway look in her eyes. She was not present for anyone. We might have burned down the house and she would barely have noticed. A slow transformation was beginning inside her mind that would alter her. It was not of her own making. It was not who she really was. It was the product of a mental illness that would from time to time overtake her in ways that seemed to destroy her very essence.

At first we barely noticed what was happening. Somehow she willed herself to return to her normal state. She had important work to do. She was now the mother and the father in our family. She had to provide and nurture. She could ill afford to drown in her tears or spend much time in a sorrowful state. She donned a mask that announced to the world that she was back, her old self ready to tackle any challenges that came her way. For a time she did a remarkable job of convincing all of us that her heart was a bit dented but not badly damaged. Still there were signs of her slow deterioration that we did not see. We hardly noticed how easily her feelings were often hurt, something that had not been part of her personality in the past. She appeared to get sick more often, sometimes staying in bed for days. We would see signs that she had been crying but then she would smile to reassure us and we forgot to consider that she might still be in pain. She shouldered so much hurt and responsibility without ever speaking of it. Perhaps we all expected perfection when we should have known that she was only human.

Ellen attempted to be all things in all situations but the stress ate away at her. She was teaching school, attending college, paying bills, keeping the home in order, caring for her aging mother, and always being a kind of super mom. After ten years of courageous effort her facade cracked wide open and the bipolar disorder that had been smoldering inside her brain became full blown. Her transformation into the world of mental illness was complete and it was as frightening as anything she or we had ever experienced.

She closed the windows and the blinds and turned off the air conditioner even though it was the hottest part of the summer. She took to her bed and openly cried almost continuously. She whispered her fears which were paranoid to the extreme. She believed that our family was under attack from a nameless group bound to the idea of ruining us. She was certain that we would be put away into some jail without a trial. She worried that all of the food in her home had been poisoned. Her eyes were dull and darted around the room in fear. Her hands shook continuously and her breathing was labored. She would not eat and could not sleep. She was certain that she was going to die or that she may have already done so. Her dark and tiny world was filled with enemies and intrigue. She trusted no one. She was paralyzed in a state of panic from which she saw no escape. She had been transformed into a stranger who did not resemble my mother in any way.

I underwent my own transformation in that time. I had to vanquish my youth and accept responsibility for my mother and my younger brothers. I could no longer afford to be shy and backward. I had to quickly learn how to assert myself. I became a voice for our family. I assumed the mantle that had been thrust upon me. It felt uncomfortable and I disliked having to take control of the situation. It meant that I had to make difficult and sometimes unpopular decisions. I had no idea back then that this would become part of my destiny or that my mother would suffer from her disease for the rest of her life. Her illness would become the backdrop for our family for the next forty four years. It never went away and it was painful to watch.

There were moments when my charismatic mother reemerged in all of her glory and magnificence. Those were the best of times but they never lasted for long. Again and again the fearful broken woman would replace her and my brothers and I would battle to save her mind. We settled into a routine of vigilance that mostly worked but each time that we believed the impossible, namely that she was cured, we would be proven wrong. We learned that her illness was chronic and that it could be controlled but only so much. Medications would work for a time and then their effectiveness would lessen or they would produce serious side effects that precluded their use.

She gained weight from the chemicals coursing through her body. She felt fuzzy. It was not a state that she enjoyed. She would rebel from time to time, hiding her medications under sofas and beds, pretending to swallow them when they were tucked under her tongue. She argued that she did not need the treatments that we forced on her. Our relationship was often tense and confusing. She was supposed to be the beloved matriarch but she often felt like the child. None of us liked the situation but we understood what the consequences of ignoring our duties to her would be. We had seen what happened whenever we became complacent.

Somehow the transformation of my mother and our family had its positive effects as well. We became closer than we might have been. We celebrated and appreciated her moments of good health with more gusto than we might otherwise have done. We worked together and learned what is most important in life. We never took each other for granted. The curse of mental illness that had descended on our world turned out to be a blessing in disguise. It made us all better individuals. We learned to value people and to understand them. We became more observant and noticed when those around us were suffering. All in all we were much nicer than we had been before.

Mental illness stalks its victims with a vengeance but we learned that it need not win. Our mother’s life was more painful that it should have been but she managed to accomplish great things in spite of the disorder that lurked inside her brain. It slowed her down but it did not cripple her. It reshaped our family but not always in bad ways. Our transformation made us strong and resilient.

Ellen died at the age of eighty four. On her final days there was no sign of her mental illness. She was once again restored to the perfection of spirit that had so defined her. In her final transformation she was ready to meet God and reunite with our father. The circle was complete for her and for us.

His Story

Published on October 25, 2016October 24, 2016 by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

US_$10_Series_2003_obverse.jpg He was a small man with a gigantic intellect. Nothing about his background might have indicated the greatness that he would achieve. He was born out of wedlock on an island in the West Indies at a time when illegitimacy was considered a curse. By the age of thirteen he was an orphan who so impressed a local benefactor that he was sent to New York to further his education. He eventually graduated from King’s College and became an up and coming lawyer. Without any wealth or influence he used his genius to be one of the driving forces behind the American Revolution and the development of the Constitution of the United States of America. He earned the undying respect and trust of George Washington and became his personal aide during the war and the first Secretary of Commerce in the early years of the nation. Certain tragic flaws led to scandal, blackmail and ultimately his death in a duel. He has been the often forgotten Founding Father known best as the face on the ten dollar bill and the man shot and killed by Aaron Burr. In truth he is the person most responsible for creating the economic foundations of the country and in many ways he is perhaps the most quintessential representative of the American citizen. His name is Alexander Hamilton.

A few years back I became fascinated by Alexander Hamilton after reading a biography by Ron Chernow that my husband had given to me for Christmas. I identified with the sheer humanity of his story. He was someone who overcame tremendous deficits through sheer will and talent. He was a man who was unafraid to fight for what he believed to be right and just and yet he was also guilty of harboring resentments and falling prey to dishonest flattery. He was supremely confident in some situations and unsure of himself in others. He was a man filled with contradictions who often allowed his unbridled ego to determine his fate. He reminded me of so many highly gifted individuals who in spite of their multiplicity of talent too often become embroiled in personal battles that destroy them. Ultimately each and everyone of us struggle with inner demons.

It seems that while I was learning about Alexander Hamilton and celebrating his complexity there was someone else coming to the same conclusions as mine. In a stroke of genius Lin-Manuel Miranda created a brilliant musical to introduce the world to this fascinating character. Mixing history with modern day rap Miranda has created a stunning chronicle of the life and times of our nation’s earliest beginnings through the story of one of its most interesting founders. Hamilton represents the nitty gritty of America from his humble birth to his tragic downfall and Miranda has captured the sheer irony of Hamilton’s life in music that brings our forefathers into the modern world with all of their glory and baggage. The play has garnered well earned critical acclaim, honors and nightly packed houses. Best of all it has brought renewed interest in Hamilton and his costars in the unfolding of America’s story.

My dream is to one day see this musical on Broadway but that will have to wait until the tickets become more affordable for an average Josephine like me. Still I would love nothing more than to travel to all of the places that served as a backdrop to Hamilton’s life and then attend a showing of the play as the grand finale to my journey back through time. I think that it would prove to be the perfect vacation. My all time favorite trips have been educational in nature and this one would be beyond incredible. Judging from the ticket calendars for Hamilton that I have studied it will be several years before I will be able to fulfill my fantasy but in the meantime it will be a fun excursion to plan.

There are many aspects of Alexander Hamilton that remind me of my own grandfather. For all intents and purposes he too was an orphan. His mother died when was only three days old and his father gave him away to a woman that he lovingly called his grandmother. No documentation confirms who his relatives actually were. It is as though he simply sprang spontaneously from the earth. When he was only thirteen the woman who had raised him died leaving him on his own. He chose an uncle to oversee his small income and even stayed for a time with his father but it was not long before he was traveling across America alone and in search of work. He used his wits and determination to survive.

Grandpa was a brilliant man who in many ways was self taught. He loved this country and exercised his right to a voice in government by regularly voting well into his one hundredth eighth year of life. Like Alexander Hamilton he refused to allow his humble birth to dictate the direction of his life. He used all available opportunities to keep himself and his family afloat even in the most difficult times. He witnessed more than one economic depression, five different wars, and every presidential race from 1878 until his death in the mid nineteen eighties. Through it all he was an optimist who believed that each passing year of his life was just a bit better than his last.

My grandfather saw our human progress as a sign that the government was working just as it had been intended. He kept the faith in America’s democracy until the very day that he died. One of his last big reads was a biography of Thomas Jefferson which he was able to discuss at length just after he turned one hundred eight. He believed that his longevity and his gifts of freedom were great treasures. He left this world with not a penny to his name but he would have insisted that he was rich. He loved his country as much as he had his family. He had weathered a lifetime of tragedy and yet he was a happy man who thought himself blessed simply for living in a place that seemed to be ever improving. His take on history was that the United States of America was slowly but surely moving forward and that we all benefit from its continual search for justice and freedom.

Right now we are in a kind of valley of fear and criticism with regard to our country. We act as though these are somehow the worst of times and yet our history demonstrates that we have been in similar circumstances before. We find the divisiveness between Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton to be deplorable and we are shocked that they won’t even shake hands. We forget that Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr were such political rivals and enemies that they ended up on a field in New Jersey to settle their differences with pistols. Hamilton was mortally wounded and Burr who had been the Vice President of the United States was charged with murder and thought to be a villain for all time. Somehow our country moved beyond such a shocking turn of events just as it always seems to do.

My grandfather was able to use the breadth of his experience to see that we may falter and even lose our momentum but we always find our way back. He realized that great men like Alexander Hamilton understood the nature of humans even when they ignored their own flaws. Together individuals from different backgrounds and alternative points of view developed a government that was capable of sustaining itself and correcting its mistakes. Over two hundred years later it’s still here and not even the bombast and prevarication will tear it down as long as we the people cherish it and continue to work to make things right just as Hamilton did so long ago. He lived and died just as we all do but what a story he left behind.

Live the Dream

Published on October 24, 2016October 21, 2016 by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

independence-hall1d634dd113b0294df8db88c5695005d5 Thank God today is the first day of early voting in Texas. I plan to take advantage of my right and my duty as a citizen of the United States by casting my ballot sometime this morning. In spite of the fact that I don’t feel tremendous enthusiasm for the candidates for President I still get quite excited thinking of the power that we the people collectively have. I have faith that each person will vote with sincerity and in accordance with his/her conscience. When we enter the voting booth we are ultimately choosing the person who we feel will best represent the totality of the electorate, not just a certain faction or cause. Choosing our executive is an awesome responsibility and one that none of us should take lightly.

Voting will lift a weight from my back. This election cycle has exhausted me and I sadly fear that even when the final results have been announced the bickering between candidates, parties and citizens will continue. I plan to assert my right to remain silent regarding the choice that I have ultimately made. I am rather certain that nobody will change his/her mind in knowing how or why I decided to cast my vote. My pick is now up to me and God and believe me I have literally prayed over what I should do on this day of reckoning because all of us will continue to need His help long after the inauguration next January.

For now I am hoping for a brief respite from political posts on my Facebook wall. I prefer to see mostly images of kittens, babies and travel scenes. I have grown weary of the divisiveness. When I tweet it will be about my feelings regarding the new season of The Walking Dead or which singer performed the best on The Voice. As far as I am concerned this turkey of an election is done and I just want to stick a fork in it before it becomes as dry and tasteless as the holiday meal in the movie Christmas Vacation.

Luckily I am determined to remain an optimist. In spite of all commentary to the contrary I don’t believe that any of us need to travel to another country nor will our own nation collapse. We may feel some bumps and get some bruises but ultimately we will get it right and settle down. It’s what we do. Our history has demonstrated that we have been imperfect many times and downright brilliant in others. Luckily our Founding Fathers had a fairly clear understanding of human nature when they set up the Constitution and all in all it has worked fairly well for us.

We won our revolution against one of the most powerful governments on earth and then set about the business of running our own country. The bets were all against us and we hadn’t been around for very long when Britain did its best to snatch us back into the fold. They burned the White House and bombarded our ports. Francis Scott key wrote a little ditty about that event which we now call our national anthem. Our leaders spent most of the first seventy five years of our existence arguing over slavery. At first those voices were part of a somewhat muted minority but it didn’t take long for the words of justice to be heard loudly and clearly. When an upstart Republican named Abraham Lincoln pushed the issues related to ending slavery a great schism erupted. Brother was fighting brother in a contest that would scar the nation in ways that we feel up to this very day. When we engaged in a war against each other once again the rest of the world suspected that our little experiment in governing was soon to face a tragic end but, they were wrong. Somehow we found the good sense to come together again even if with an undercurrent of discord and resentment. When the world wars of the twentieth century threatened humanity we became brothers and sisters once again. We argue and bicker like siblings often do but whenever push comes to shove we always seem to find ways to set aside our differences and carry on.

We’ve had our ups and our downs as a country. We took far too long to accept the idea that women should be the equal of men. We so tragically and erroneously held on to the institution of slavery even as it became more and more apparent that it was immoral. We pushed the native Americans aside and stole their land and way of life. We’ve made many mistakes and yet the evolution of our government has been continuous. We have made corrections and done our best to protect the rights of an incredibly diverse populace. Our work is never finished and as we attempt to fix things we often disagree on the proper course of action. We have enough belief in our nation to return to the ballot box again and again to voice our concerns and choose the leaders who will hopefully work for all of us.

One of the most moving moments of my life came when I was standing alone in Independence Hall in Philadelphia. I had lingered after the rest of my tour group had left. I wanted to really feel the spirit of those brave souls who crafted their Declaration of Independence on a hot July day. I stood among the original furnishings, the colonial chairs and tables. I thought of the men who were there. I felt the determination that they must have had. Every single one of them understood that they were risking their own lives in just being present for such an undertaking. Theirs was a treasonous act, punishable by death. Somehow their vision of a new kind of democracy kept them focused on their task. Even then their opinions differed. They found ways to compromise and build solidarity for their cause. They were quite audacious in believing that they might successfully break ties with the powerful far away government that did not appear to understand their needs. What they were suggesting was frightening and almost unbelievable.

We are the recipients of their great gift. We enjoy the benefits of those who continued to fight to create a more and more perfect union. One by one we are allowed to voice our individual opinions. Like our forefathers we must sometimes demonstrate a willingness to compromise and work together. Of late we are having a bit of a problem with that. My hope is that we will become so weary of the divisions that have are presently the standard of politics that we will find a way to join together again. Perhaps there is someone whom we have yet to meet who will see himself or herself as a uniter, someone who understands that the essence of this country lies in its willingness to respect and include its many points of view.

So for now I will dutifully cast my vote and feel the sense of power that my time in the ballot box represents. Then I just want to rest. The journey has been a bit too rough this time around. The cynical side of my nature has been tempted to overtake my psyche far too many times in the last few months. I prefer to remain upbeat as corny as that may seem. I’ll take the earnest efforts of the young people that I know as a sign that we will ultimately be okay. I’ll make my plans for Thanksgiving and once again consider my many blessings rather than dwell on problems. I know in my heart that the American people are mostly good and together we will carry on in hopes of fulfilling the promise that began in that little room in Philadelphia so long ago. Exercise your rights. Vote. Live the dream for which so many have sacrificed.

One Fingertip Away

Published on October 20, 2016October 19, 2016 by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

fingertips Inside each of us is the instinct to flee from frightening events. As children we may attempt to fake an illness to avoid an unpleasant situation. As adults we may take a mental health day when our jobs begin to overwhelm. Sometimes our lives become so stressful or unhappy that we dream of running away. Few of us ever choose the easy way out of a sticky situation but such behavior is not unheard of.

When I was in college I landed an internship at one of the local elementary schools. I had a fancy title of some sort but in essence I was a teachers’ aide. I spent my days doing tasks that the real educators did not have enough time to accomplish. Only once in a blue moon did a teacher realize that I might enjoy working with students. Most of the time I was in the copy room running off worksheets and tests. That’s where I met a young woman who was a bonafide teachers’ aide who worked full time at the school and would likely still be there long after I had returned to the university to study. She was quite sweet but undeniably adrift. Her job was unfulfilling, low paying and at times demeaning. Sadly she saw no way out of her dilemma. She needed the income and saw no other possibilities on the horizon. In her mind she was stuck in a deep rut from which there was never going to be a means of escape. Her unhappiness enveloped her so that she was unable to even consider any of the ideas that I suggested as we ran the mimeograph machine, collated and stapled.

One morning she was nowhere to be found as I made my rounds to determine what kind of work was in store for me. Everyone was asking if I had seen her. I assumed that she was caught in traffic or perhaps she was so sick that she was unable to call the school to explain her absence. By mid-morning rumors were spreading through the school. The secretary had called the young woman’s home and her family insisted that she had left for work at the same time that she always did. We were all worried and wondering what might have happened. It was not until the next day that we learned the shocking truth.

It seems that the girl had indeed intended to go to work just as she always had. The mere thought of repeating the dull and never ending tasks made her stomach churn but she was a dutiful person. As she sat in the wall to wall traffic she just happened to glance at the side of the road where a sign noted the distance from that spot to Dallas. At that very moment something primal overcame her usually rational thinking. She knew in her heart that she could not face her job that day. On an impulse she decided to drive to Dallas instead. She went past the exit for the school and just kept traveling north until she saw the skyscrapers of Big D. She had no plan, no idea of what she intended to do next. She only knew that there was no way that she could go back to the life that she had been living and stay sane. She apologized to the principal and tendered her resignation effective immediately.

All of us were stunned by her actions. I wasn’t sure whether I thought that she was crazy or the bravest person that I had ever known. I understood that she had flaunted protocols and demonstrated a profound lack of responsibility, and maybe even maturity, but I somehow admired her willingness to excise the pain she had been experiencing in one fell swoop. Over the years whenever I found myself in situations that were overwhelming I thought of her and felt the temptation to emulate her actions. I wondered how freeing it must have felt to shoot the bird at obligations and fly away, if only for a day. Of course I never followed through on such thoughts because ultimately it was not in my nature. Still there was something fascinating about the idea of simply walking away from conflicts.

A few days ago I watched an ESPN 30 for 30 film about the incredible University of Houston Phi Slamma Jamma basketball team that made history in the early nineteen eighties. The movie was a story within a story as it traced the meteoric rise of one of the greatest teams in the history of college sports and their tragic inability to grab the ultimate prize of a national championship. In one of the most famous games of all time Houston was literally one fingertip and mere seconds away from the title when a player named Bennie Anders just missed his shot.

Things fell apart for the team and for Bennie after that. The glory days were gone as key players left for the NBA. Bennie who was younger stayed on but seemed to be in continual conflict with his coaches and his teammates. He ultimately became embroiled in an altercation with one of them, went to his car, and came back with a loaded gun. He was arrested and expelled from the university. After that he simply seemed to disappear. A young man who had once been thought to have enough talent to earn a place in the NBA was nowhere to be found. Thirty years later his former teammates located him living an ordinary life in Michigan. Bennie insisted that he was happy because he was free.

I am a promise keeper. Once I commit to a job, an event, a relationship I believe in going all the way. I don’t like the idea of letting other people down but I’m not so ready to fault those who understand that they must sever ties quickly and without warning or be eternally trapped. Sometimes I believe that we really do have to flee certain situations when they break us into a million little pieces. We may need a bit of time away from the fury or we may realize that we can never turn back again. I have not been the victim of abuse nor have I ever felt as though I was going to lose my mind but there are those who quite legitimately realize that they are on the verge of disaster and that their only recourse is to run away from something terrifying.

Those of us witnessing such behavior may be stunned but until we know all of the circumstances it is not up to us to judge. The beautiful thing about the Bernie Anders story is that the only question his old friends asked when they found him was whether or not he was happy. They embraced him just as he was and he felt their love, commenting on the powerful impact that it had on him. He was touched by their concern and the fact that they had never forgotten him. They were heroes but so was he.

We have basic human instincts locked inside our DNA designed to protect us from harm. They signal our brains when we are in danger. All too often we ignore the signs until it is too late or we have to make such dramatic moves that they seem to be extreme. We fail to listen for the tiny voices that tell us when our situation is not what it should be. We hide our fears and fail to reach out for the help that almost always is available. We think that we are alone when our emotions overcome us. We falsely believe that our faltering indicates that we are weak when admitting our concerns is actually the bravest thing that we might do.

Life can be unbelievably cruel at times. We make decisions over and over again as we meet the challenges that befall us. We can take the exit to work or keep heading down the highway. We can miss our shot at fame and fortune or choose to lead a quiet life on our own terms. Whatever we decide to do, it should feel good. When it doesn’t we are likely on the wrong track. Life is never about a single game. It is the sum of all that we do. We always have another chance to make the dunk or just walk away.