Loss

Now the winter has come
to eclipse in the sun
that has lighted my love for some time

And a cold wind now blows
not much tenderness flows
from the heart of someone feeling so tired

So sings George Harrison in one of the saddest songs that I have ever heard. Titled "So Sad," it is about loss.

Over the past year and a half, I have learned all about loss. I've lost a major program, a friend/employee who I trusted completely, a piece of my reputation, my Dad, and my wife. That is a lot of loss in a relatively short period of time! Most of the time I didn't think that I could bear it but somehow I did.

The first two things to know about loss is that it makes you sadder than you ever thought you could be and that it leaves you bone tired. All of the time! The saddess and the weariness are so heavy that it can litterally drive you to your knees on the floor and your own sobs are the only noise.

"Don't they know, it's the end of the world?" as another song goes. And in the aftermath of loss, this is what we quickly conclude and in a sense, that is right, because our world is no longer the same as it was. That world has come to an end.

But life goes on.

And you are amazed that life goes on. How? Why?

Then when you are on the floor sobbing, your dog licks the tears away from your face and you hug that animal as you never have before. Or a friend stops by unannounced and uninvited and makes you get up and deal. Or someone you knew but didn't know cared reaches out and lets you know that you are loved anyway. Or an old friend calls and makes you laugh when laughter is the very last thing that you want to do.

And it goes on like this for a while. Much too long. And you remain sad and tired. and you visit all of the dark places. And you love the darkness.

Then you notice the sun rising. The skies become brilliantly blue. The ocean becomes like glass. Your heart begins to jump when new friends and old friends touch it. And the darkness begins to fade, ever so slowly.

And you can be doing anything. Running around the Washington Monument. Listening to your I-pod. Thinking about new friends who have touched your heart. And without a moments notice, you are reborn. Alive again. Feeling and sensing everything at the same time. On fire! Yourself again! Yet different. Richer because of the loss.

The Land of the Rich and of the Brave

"Did you see how much those rooms cost?" Herb asked as we made our way down the escalator at Reagan National.

"Yep, that's why it is only the rich who play up here," I replied.

Not that we didn't see the poor. Homeless people are everywhere in Washington D.C. You can't help but step over them as you make your way through the city. They are huddled in blankets or shake cups begging for alms. Mostly they are ignored here.

Then there are the protesters who seem to be everywhere. Peta was screaming about animal rights. Earth Day people were everywhere. In fact, the Mall was assembled for a huge rally. Last night when we were leaving dinner, a lone woman with a loud speaker called us murderers, though I'm not sure why. I had a fish taco and I guess it could have been her fish at one time.

But mostly we found ourselves surrounded by people who have means. They were smartly dressed, very articulate and, well, most were beautiful. At one point I looked at Lauren and said, "If you act like you belong, they will assume that you do."

But we had good friends who are big guns with us. Jane Terry, Carol Holladay and Bob Hurt shepherded us around, making introductions and arranging last minute meetings that we requested. We saw Senators and Congressmen and the people who run the agencies. At the end of it all, we knew that it had been a very good day. Good things are going to come because we were here.

That is how the game is played. It is like everything else. It's all about relationships. Who knows who. Regardless of if you are in a homeless shelter or in Congress. And next week we have a conference call with the White House because of our friends.

And we will do what we've done for the last two days. Explain what we are doing and ask if others can help. Then we will do it again. And again. Then hopefully people will start to believe in us. Because of our track record. But mostly because of the relationships that have been cultivated.

It is exhausing work that didn't end until 10:00 last night. Now I am glad to be heading home to stare at the ocean, laugh with my friends, and surround myself with healing hands again.

No Day But Today

Last night I was at the old Washington Hotel which is now a "W". We were having dinner at J&G's Steakhouse, which is fine dinning experience in what is one of D.C.'s newest trendy spots. The discussion was politics and today's agenda which has us bouncing around the Capitol, beginning with a breakfast with Senator Isakson, dancing through the Departments of Energy, Transportation, H.U.D. and ending late today with Congressman Barrow.

But there was this moment last night when I visited the past. Back in 2001, when it was still the Washington Hotel, I stayed there. I was In D. C. to receive an award from the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation. Ten of us were being honored as "Community Health Leaders" which is full of recognition and a $100,000 in cash to support whatever it was that I wanted to support.

With me was Julie, Joe Bridges, Melanie Finnacario, Elana Lee, Judy, and Ben and Bettye Barnes. Specifically, it was because of the creation of the J. C. Lewis Health Center that I was honored.

So anyway there was this moment last night when I remembered a reception in the room where we were having dinner and I met Dr. Jose Vargas-Vidot, who is a dear friend to this day. And Sharon Robashach who is amazing. And it was the first time that Union Mission danced on the national stage.

I smiled as I remembered the awards ceremony at the National Press Club. I thought of how close we were then. Everything seemed special. Everything seemed possible.

Then the conversation turned back to today's politics and I tapped my fingers on the table and fired questions as though they were from a machine gun. It is all about today. That is all that I have. That is all that you have. The past is dead and gone and while I may visit there from time to time it is no place that I want to stay. And I really like what I am now. And what Union Mission is now. It was good then. It is far better now.

Tomorrow is full of hope and I certainly have a lot of that. For healing hands to continue their magic ways. For good times with my friends. For the University of Georgia to win another SEC championship. For more beach time. For a Union Mission that rocks and rolls on a cylinders. For good times with the kids.

But tomorrow may never come in spite of my hopes. Today on the other hand is here. And it is time to grab it by the neck and enjoy the hell out of it. Because there is no day but today.

Replacing a Misplaced Heart

The last time that I went to Washington D. C. my heart had been misplaced and I really didn't want to be there. And I spent an evening and a day boucing around the Capitol in three-quarters time like I was sleep walking. Somehow, I pulled it together enough to say the right things when it was my turn but I was mostly sad and tired.

There was one moment at H.U.D. when I seemed to snap to life and engage in a vigorous conversation, but I faded fast.

Herb McKenzie, Laurene Milmine, Carol Holloday and Jane Talley spent most of their time propping me up. They were all very kind.

That was in January. Today I am heading back and am ready to kick ass! I found my misplaced heart and laid it in some healing hands. It is different from the one that I used to have, but like the beach which changes a little every day, it remains somehow the same too. It has gone through some dark places and survived. It is fuller somehow.

This morning at the Breakfast Club, my extended family wanted to know where I am off to now. I told them and the topic was immediately changed by Val to something that she considered much more important.

"Just what in the hell did yesterday's Face Book status update mean?"

It was "Micheal had a near perfect day until the blister in the sun. Big hands you know you're the one."

This led to vigorous debate on their part over what it meant. Denise though "Big Hands" is God. Val wondered if it was somebody else. I smiled with my filled heart and left them still debating. I am sure that we will pick right back up when I return.

But now it is back to D. C. with Herb, Laurene, Carol and Jane. It will be much different this time. I have my heart back. Washington be warned!

Healing Hands

Healing takes time. It doesn't happen all at once.

If I've learned anything in my time at Union Mission and over the past several months, it is this. And as much as we want heealing to take place overnight, it doesn't. It comes slowly and you have to be in a place where you can take it as it comes. You can't force it or be there in the way that you want all at once. Healing takes place according to its own time table and in its own way.

I think that healing takes place in two ways. First, inside of yourself, meaning that you have to want it as it happens. Not when it happens, but as it happens. Healing takes baby steps. But if you don't want it, then nothing happens. So you pray and wish and hope for movement. And slowly, painfully slowly, it begins.

Second, other people become part of the healing process. You can never be quite sure who they will be and are usually surprised as hell when you find out. You would have never guessed it would have been ... that person! Healing usually involves a set of healing hands.

Then, there are those who show up wanting to help or console and as they talk to you you pray that the floor would open up and they would just go away. Overly emphatheic people hender healing.

And you always think that you are further along than you really are. Even when you find yourself in a beautful and perfect set of circumstances, you can suddenly be reminded that you are not yet healed all of the way. These are discouraging and frustrating times. A lot of people walk away from the healing process when such things occur. Those who heal, keep at it anyway in spite of the short comings and the disappointments.

So this sounds like a sermon. No funny stories or broken angels to describe. Just the things that are in my heart from what I learned yesterday.

Broken Angels

Her tiny body was bloody and bruised. She was in the arms of the police officer who had taken her from the brand new home that she had been staying in. Her large brown eyes had no more tears. They were dry and empty and void of light. Though only two, she already had the eyes of a frightened old woman. She will never really be a child again. The innocence has been beaten out of her.

It was her baby sitter, a mentally ill woman that we had been working with for years. A lot of progress has been made as she was stabilized on her medication, became functional and compliant, and was well on her way to becoming one of our success stories. She had moved into her first real home. Everything was working like it should.

Then she agreed to baby sit. And then we don't know. The neighbors heard a baby crying. Screaming. Sobbing. The police were called. Something had snapped and years of progress were immediately wiped away.

And the police will take the child to the Department of Children and Family Services, whose budget has been repeatedly raped by the Governor and the elected people who call themselves leaders. Hopefully, enough compassion is still funded to nurse this tiny broken angel back to health.

The woman will go to jail which is the largest provider of mental health services in the state. Another great example of political leadership.

The staff is devastated as they ask questions that have no answers. They did their best, gave their all, only to have success become tragedy in the blink of an eye.

And over the weekend I was reminded just how sad the world can be. Innocent babies are beaten. A friend writes me full of sadness because a friend of hers was murdered by a gang. Rather than embrace the love that surrounds him a man drinks himself to oblivion because he has lost the capacity to give and receive love. Homes are abandoned leaving dejected lovers alone and crying.

Somewhere, a guitar gently weeps.

None of it makes any sense. There is no rhyme or reason. And in the end, we are left with one another to get ourselves through it. We hug. Cry together. Sit in silence. Make potato saled for each other because we can't think of anything else to do.

And then we carry on. Because there is nothing else to do.

Serendipity

So I believe in Serendipity. Sometimes the heavens open up and things happen at the right place, at the right time, and with the right people. It is always full of holiness and is always a surprise. Then it happens so unexpectedly that you are shocked.

So for months I have been living through this shitstorm and struggling just to breath and to keep my feelings in check. Then my beloved son Jeremy accompanied by a gang of Irish Catholics kidnapped me and we all got drunk. We are all vaguely aware of how and when we got home. Somehow we all rose from the dead the next morning. Who knew that healing can begin this way?

Then I had cocktails with a friend. Our plan was to compare shitstorms, but it didn't work out that way. We rushed through those stories and spent the better part of two hours smiling and laughing and confessing ourselves to one another. Two hopeless romantics who really do believe that love is possible.

And yesterday I was having the follow up lunch with Mary Ann Beil. She had threatened this when I was in St. Martin and, true to form, she shows up with a dog eared copy of John Donahue's "Anam Cara", which is Celtic Christianity. She read me passages and then lunch came and we just talked.

I was telling her about this week, when she exploded as she can do. "Let me tell you something, you know more about love than anybody I know." Laying her fork down, her eyes locked mine and she pointed a finger at me, "for Christ's sake, you love homeless people. You love people with AIDS. You love people that the rest of us do not give a shit about. So when it comes to how to love someone else, I think that you know more than most!"

I was stunned. It is hard not to love Mary Ann.

And then it happened. The heaven's opened and serendipity appeared at our table. She was beautiful. A smile that could not be contained exploded on my face. And there was this moment, when I saw all of the possibilities of futures that I had never considered. And every dark thing that had been living in me fled to other places and I found myself again. And Love was all around me, as the song goes. And in me. And through me. And then as quickly as she came, serendipity vanished. But my heart stayed full.

I spent the rest of the day chasing her, and though I came close, I didn't see her again. But my heart remained full. And last night Johnny O, Judy, Whitley, and O Johnny called wanting to go out. Goddess didn't seem to mind so I went. And we had fun, though I kept one eye over my shoulder on the lookout for secrendipity throughout the night.

I came home and crawled into bed and looked at the ceiling fan. The last words that I said last night were to thank secrendipity. And for the first time in months, I slept peacefully throughout the night. And I woke to happiness.