compassion

The Truth, The Whole Truth (and nothing but the truth?)

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

They say honesty is the best policy. I don’t know who “they” are and I’m not always so sure about that honesty policy. Too many times the statement “to tell you the truth…” followed by some unsettling pronouncement has caused pain in my life. Or I hear, “honestly, …” and I mentally glaze over and those little flaps inside my ears slowly close, because I don’t want to receive any honesty at that moment. Sometimes the news has been medical in nature. Sometimes it has been work-related. The worst honesty is the relationship kind. When your loved one tells you that your jokes aren’t funny, but your outfit is. That’s hurtful.

Often it is someone sharing their political or religious “truths”. I have been surprised by some folks need to “educate me” on their particular point of view. This is usually unsolicited. Rarely have I asked for someone to tell me how to vote or what to boycott or where to worship. Still, the desire to influence, recruit, or evangelize is a powerful force in some people’s lives. I had a dear uncle who once said to me, “You’re entitled to your opinion no matter how wrong it is”. That statement was poignant, unsettling, and hilarious all at the same time. I’ve used it many times since.

We humans have an innate desire to share our joy, our sorrow, and our wisdom. This is a good thing. Everyone has a story to tell; a song to sing. Where we veer into trouble is when we believe that our story is the only true story. I’m guilty of this. One of my best friends once said to me, “I just look like this” while I was attempting to instill some wisdom. I was stunned. Her point: you are treating me as if I am ill-informed. You are making assumptions about me because of my sex, race, and age. She was right and that truth hurt. Once again, like my uncle’s statement, I have used hers many times since. It’s can be a showstopper.

Someone recently suggested that I say, “that has not been my experience”, when confronted by someone who holds an opinion opposite of mine. It’s much more tactful than what my brain is usually trying to get my mouth to say. Because “you’re stupid and wrong” might be truthful but it rarely resolves any conflict. In our current political climate, I’m constantly being challenged by statements made at sporting events, social gatherings, family dinners, organizational meetings and from the pulpit.

I am often at odds with people I love and respect. I try to tell them, “That has not been my experience”, or “I just look like this”, but it doesn’t register with the truth-teller. And then with prayer and a little self-examination, I finally look in the mirror and honestly ask myself, how often have I been the dispenser of truths? How often have I been the one who doesn’t listen but needs to share my story? How often have I told the truth, the whole truth and nothing but my truth?

I’m a Partner in Mission (a lay member) with the Sisters of The Most Precious Blood. Our charism is reconciliation. Those are fancy words which mean we are trying to bring peace to our world, to our communities, to our homes and to our hearts. It’s true that sometimes truth hurts. Every husband dreads the fateful question, “Does this dress make me look fat?” No easy answers there. Sometimes truth makes us squirm. Sometimes truth makes us fearful. But sometimes truth can set us free.

Perhaps telling the truth wouldn’t be so hard if I could remember to tell it with sensitivity, compassion and understanding. And to accept it from others even when it hurts.

Peace,

Denis

Old Dog Learns New Tricks

/ Denis Wilhelm / 2 Comments

Recently my wife and I were at a fast-food restaurant. The service was not fast. As I impatiently waited at the counter, a young man who works at the establishment stepped away and began blathering on with one of the cooks in the kitchen. Their conversation seemed to have nothing to do with burgers or fries or serving the increasingly annoyed old man waiting to give his order.

When this effeminate young man finally presented himself at the counter, I noticed his unkempt appearance and his greasy hair with bleached streaks. He also had some piercings and at least three visible tattoos. His burger shirt was wrinkled and messy. As I stood there silently judging him, I could barely hold my composure. Why should I have been kept waiting while he appeared to be flirting with the guy in the back?

I girded my loins for a confrontation because I was certain that he would challenge my order of two Kid Meals (because I really don’t look like I’m 12 or younger) but instead he politely accepted my request with a smile and a “thank you”. I was a bit deflated because all my imaginary rage was wasted. Happy for the discounted meals but disappointed that I hadn’t been right about this kid left me flummoxed. Just because two senior citizens are purchasing Kids Meals doesn’t mean we’re stealing; it just means we’re living on a fixed income and being financially responsible. Maybe my ever-so-slight dishonesty comes with the price of having to be waited on by this guy. Whatever the rationale, I enjoyed my burger and fries and my tiny child-size soft drink.

Then Counter Guy approached the table next to us where a young woman with Down Syndrome was struggling with getting the lid and straw secured on her soft drink. I recognized her as the person who wipes the tables and mops the floors there and her shift had apparently just ended. She often seems to be neglected and dismissed by the other staff members. But this guy helped her with her drink and inquired about her ride home. He then asked her what kind of car her mom drove, and when he spotted the car in the parking lot, he walked her out to the car and took the time to speak with her mother. He afforded her such care and compassion.

Now my meal was served with a slice of humble pie. God forgive me!

I had been so quick to judge, and I was so wrong. Because of his appearance and manner, I had pre-judged Counter Guy. With more than a little trepidation, I returned to the counter and told that young man that I had witnessed his kindness. I let him know how touching it was and thanked him for reminding me to be kinder. I might have embarrassed him, but he smiled and said, “I just like to be nice to people, and treat them with dignity and respect”.

Dignity. Respect. It’s never too late to learn.

Peace,

Denis

Stop judging, that you may not be judged. For as you judge, so will you be judged, and the measure with which you measure will be measured out to you. Matthew 7:1-2

Heartbreak and Hope

/ Denis Wilhelm / 2 Comments

Last week we had the mundane task of shopping at a big box store. You know the place, where you can get toilet paper and toys and t-shirts and televisions. We had time to kill so went spent more time than usual and dawdled at the barbeque grills, smokers, and outdoor grills – fascinating stuff they sell for the backyard these days. It wasn’t an altogether unpleasant experience. That is until we paid for our “necessities” and headed toward the door.

There was a young couple just in front of us with a baby in their shopping cart who was greeted by a woman in a tie-dyed t-shirt. I thought at first it must have been a friend waiting for them but then I realized she had a police officer at her side. She greeted the couple with, “I’m store security. I need you turn around and go back into the store with me now.”

My heart sank. The young woman turned beet red. The young man looked clueless (was he? or was it an act?) And the baby? Sweet innocence. There was no protest. They just turned and walked back into the store sullenly and shamefully. The dad in me had the urge to yell out, “I’ll pay for whatever it was!” But I didn’t. Perhaps I was afraid. Maybe I figured that it wouldn’t solve their problem. Besides the undercover security officer and the cop didn’t really look like they were the negotiating types. Regardless we walked out of the store as they walked back in. And I kept thinking that could be my daughter or my son.

I haven’t been able to shake that encounter out of my mind. The young couple. The baby. I have a million questions. Were they so desperate that shoplifting was their only hope of survival? Was it just a kick – some kind of thrill perhaps? Were they feeding an addiction or just trying to feed their baby? What would become of them and their baby? I can’t (and won’t) judge them. I know that stealing is wrong. I realize it is crime to take what is not yours. But how is one’s self-esteem brought so low that this happens? How has society (that includes me) failed them? I’ve been praying for them since.

I hope that the courts show mercy. I hope that this a wake-up call for the young parents. I hope that the baby retains no memory of that shameful experience. I hope and I pray for all those who are desperate and in need of compassion.

During Lent we are encouraged to repent. The word we translate as ‘repent’ – metanoia – means ‘change of heart’ or to live life with your belief in the Good News of the Gospel. Nice sentiment and easy to say but where is the Good News for those in trouble? Where is the Good News for those on the fringe of society? Where is the Good News for the hopeless ? The hungry? The prisoner? The outcast?

I’ll start by trying to refrain from judgement of others. Mercy is a gift that I can freely give. Kindness can be shown to everyone I encounter. That’s a first step towards my change of heart. And I will continue to pray for that young couple and ask God to forgive me for my blindness to others’ pain. I pray that there is always hope even amidst heartbreak.

Peace,

Denis

Love in Action

/ Denis Wilhelm / 2 Comments

My wife Debbie, encouraged by our friend Bob, recently spent 10 days at the Mexican border serving immigrants and asylum seekers. When Bob returned to The Humanitarian Respite Center in McAllen, Texas, after having been there in December, she joined him. The Center is supported by Catholic Charities of The Rio Grande Valley. She wasn’t there to make a political statement or to judge – only to serve.

The Center offers legal refugees an opportunity to bathe, get clean clothes, a quick meal and to contact their sponsors in the U.S. after being processed through Border Patrol. Many of these people have traveled great distances and under extreme conditions to arrive safely in the United States. Deb had no idea what she would be doing when she got there, but on day two she was put in charge of the kitchen.

Kitchen PrayerIt turns out that as she was feeding their bodies, they were feeding her soul. She spent most days chopping potatoes, carrots, onions, or whatever was donated. She made soups or stews to feed the families. The first day she was making fruit salad and serving it in tiny Dixie cups. One of the regular volunteers told her that she was filling the cups too full and there wouldn’t be enough for everyone. It brought her to tears as these people were starving and she was only able to serve a very small portion. When she cried, the other volunteer also cried. Deb says they held on to one another for the longest time and sobbed. She also tells me that because they served several hundred people each day they would nearly run out of water, bread, vegetables or fruit, but then there would be a knock at the door and whatever was needed would appear – truly God’s blessings.

She says, “Overwhelming is an understatement. These are beautiful people and grateful for the smallest thing. Each day I was bone-tired and an emotional wreck but couldn’t wait to return the next day.”

Some of her stories from her time at The Center are heartbreaking: the child separated from her parents; the young pregnant woman so exhausted and yet so grateful for a late-night meal; the old man who said that he cried himself to sleep while in detention; the mother who considered the “coyote” she paid to help her on her journey, a good man because he hadn’t raped her or her daughter.

But every day was also filled with joyful moments: the many ‘gracias’ she received for the simplest gift of food or drink; the little boy who ran to Deb and hugged her; the other volunteers who welcomed her; the man who told her that she had a loving heart and beautiful soul and that he would remember her forever; the reunion of the little girl who had been separated from her parents; our dear friend Bob who “carried her” through each day.

Every evening Deb left the Center exhausted and yet thankful for being given an opportunity to serve; to be able to put her love into action. At night she would often lie in bed praying for the asylum seekers and hoping they found their way “home” and she would recall the words from a ‘Kitchen Prayer’ that her grandmother gave her many years ago: “…Make me a saint by getting meals and washing up the plates. Although I must have Martha’s hands, I have a Mary mind. And when I black the boots and shoes, Thy sandals Lord I find…”

We all need heroes in our lives. I’m blessed to be married to mine.

Peace,

Denis

The Apple (or whatever it was)

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

apple.jpgIf you ask most folks about the story of Adam and Eve, a likely image that they’ll recall is the apple. Eve offered Adam the apple after the serpent convinced her to eat it. It’s hard to blame the first couple for the whole apple ordeal because they had no one else to ask and the Internet hadn’t been invented so they couldn’t “Google” the serpent’s claim to see if it was accurate. I kind of get it. Who hasn’t received some lousy advice and made a few bad choices along the way?

Anyway, the thing is. It may not have been an apple at all. The Bible just says forbidden fruit. It doesn’t mention an apple by name. The poor apple is blamed for the whole Original Sin/Driven out of Paradise mess. Heck it could’ve been a pear. And I don’t even like pears but I still think of the apple as the culprit. Strange how images or ideas get stuck in our consciousness. It could have been a banana or a pomegranate or something we don’t even have a name for now.

This whole thing makes me think about how often I have been the apple. How many times have I been the misidentified fruit? You know, the guy that gets the blame (or shame) for something that he really didn’t do. Or worse, how often have I assigned blame to an innocent person? Assuming that because of circumstances or associations or appearances someone “who could be an apple” is guilty of something.

When my kids were teenagers I used to say, “If you look like a duck, and quack like a duck, and hang out with ducks, people will assume you too are a duck.” The intent was to have them choose friends wisely and avoid troublemakers. I realize now that I was only reinforcing negative stereotypes and sending mixed messages as I constantly implored them to also “think for yourselves” and “stop following the pack”. My parental failures are epic…

The point is: I need to seek the truth. I need to stop calling out the “apples” in my life. After all the “apples” might not even be the offenders. I need to make my decisions based on love and faith and honesty, not on fear and rumor and prejudice. Not everything is black and white. My world is many shades of gray (and thankfully lots of color, too). While on this journey of life I will make some mistakes and break some hearts and do some irreparable damage. I hope that God will forgive me when I have judged too harshly; when I have failed to see the good in others; when half-truths have clouded my ability to reason. I pray that those I have offended will understand my ignorance and excuse it even if they cannot forgive me.

Peace,

Denis

“It is only about the fruit of the tree in the middle of the garden that God said, ‘You shall not eat it or even touch it, or else you will die.’”

 

 

One Man’s Trash Is Another Man’s Treasure

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

The saying goes, “That one man’s trash is another man’s treasure.” So with that in mind (and the need to close up the house here before we leave for England) we decided to have a yard sale. After cleaning out the basement and some of the closets we had a garage full of junk (treasures) to sell. The goal was to get rid of stuff that we didn’t need (or want) anymore. And ultimately what didn’t sell would be donated to St. Vincent de Paul.

But a funny thing happened. Several people who showed up for our sale commented on how nice our stuff was and then proceeded to ask us to take less than the price that was marked. Now I know that with yard sales bartering is part of the ‘game’ and at first I thought it was amusing that someone would ask if I would take less on something that was marked .25 cents. But even though these items were discards I started to feel insulted that some of these bargain hunters would look at the price on something and then roll their eyes or worse – mutter under their breath and laugh. Their taunting laughter seemed to say, “Your trash is not worthy of my precious time or money.” “Wait!” I screamed in my head, “Aren’t you the one that just complimented our lovely array of treasures?”

Suddenly I decided that perhaps some of these folks didn’t deserve our mismatched dishes or outdated wall hangings. Maybe I should just close up shop and save my treasures for someone more appreciative. Why was I sacrificing an (almost) perfectly good crock pot for only $2.00? Why was I willing to let go of a lamp that used to have a prominent place in my home for just a $1.50?

After I regained my composure and made a few bucks and then donated a significant amount of things to charity, I reflected on the entire ordeal. While it’s true that “one man’s trash is another man’s treasure” it’s equally true that “one man’s treasure may be viewed as trash by another.” I wondered how many times that I’ve been guilty of de-valuing someone’s treasure? How often have I not shown proper respect or deference to something highly prized by someone else? And what about the times that I’ve been careless with regards to someone’s feelings? Or downright insulting in my lack of regard? And what kind of pain have I inflicted on others?

Anyone that is prejudged by their appearance or income or the neighborhood that they live in or the car that they drive knows that pain. Any of us that has put part of ourselves into a work of art only to have someone laugh at it or dismiss it knows that pain. Any person that has a child with special needs that has been subjected to unkindness or discrimination knows that pain. Anyone that loves something (their Church, their hometown, their country) only to have it mocked or ridiculed by others knows that pain. 

So today I’m thankful for the lesson of our yard sale. And I’m asking God to help me show more compassion and empathy towards others and to forgive me for those times that I have failed to do so.

Peace,

Denis