On a cool, crisp morning just before breakfast, I pull on a jacket and walk outside to my favorite spot in our yard, a small garden shaded by a dogwood and a live oak. After a few warm-up exercises, I begin swinging my arms and hips in a rhythm I call the Happy Dance.
Swing, pivot, swing, pivot. The exact movements aren’t important. All that matters is that they are driven by something deep inside me, a gratitude that can’t be quashed.
At 9:15 one weekday morning, I pulled up to a voluminous metal building at our little county airport and let myself in through a metal door. Inside, several people looked up from their seats at a long table, clearly startled. A woman got up quickly and came toward me with a protective air. But she recognized me, and her face relaxed into a smile.
I had come to visit the Monarch Beach Club, a program that cares for Outer Banks men and women with intellectual or developmental disabilities like cerebral palsy or autism. Club members are too old to go to school. They’re the people society cruelly hides away, the ones often greeted by stares or, alternately, turned backs. Without the Beach Club, they would have been isolated at home, most likely being cared for by their parents.
Recently I posted a new blog on the Huffington Post about a Portland doctor who decided to give $100 to a stranger, every day for a month. Jill Ginsberg hoped her experiment in street philanthropy would help her rid herself of a persistent fear that she would somehow fall into poverty. In the process she learned a great deal about "neediness" and her own assumptions about the poor.
It's a great story, and you can read it here.
Jill Ginsberg gives $100 to a stranger on a Portland bus. Bruce Ely photograph, The Oregonian.
True or False: If someone doesn’t want your help, you should leave him alone.
“As a child raised in an alcoholic home,” the message began, “I never learned the correct response to certain situations. I would not ask for help, and if offered help would often decline, afraid of the person’s motives.”
The True/False question above, which I posted recently on my Facebook page, elicited some highly interesting responses. As expected, most people thought it was true. It’s a central tenant of Seva work: Never, ever force your help on someone. In fact, many aid workers argue, if your help is not openly welcomed, you should leave the person alone. Why put yourself out for someone who’s ungrateful or unlikely to accept what you do for him? In the worst situations, you’ll only encourage him to continue his destructive habits or behavior.
But then I received that private message from a friend whom I’ll call Grace, the child of alcoholic parents.
