Resubmission and revised version of the original.

This post ends with the promise that it will remain open. (I hate rambling,) Therefore, I have done just that... revised and extended it, even though you have not commented. I commented to myself, and this is the new version. The original resides in a "Thought for the day" on my Facebook page. So here is the resubmission:
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Mondays are ok too... aren't they?

So, why is it that we give Mondays such a bad wrap? I don't get it. I have come to look forward to things that challenge me, and Mondays just don't mean anything special to me. It could be because I own my own business... well, actually my beautiful wife Cornelia owns her own business and she kindly allows me to work with her. :-)

As a result of this economic freedom, I have come to appreciate Mondays just like I do Saturdays or Wednesdays. I like all of my days. Every day is potentially miraculous and being always an eternal optimist, I prefer to be expectant. And I don't expect Monday to be any different from any other day I've been given. Days are gifts. Ask a terminally ill person.

You may be asking yourself, Where are you going with this? If I knew that, I wouldn't blog. I like to blog my mind, and I have learned that my blogging is a desire for dialogue. So other than that, why even talk about a Monday? I just want to talk. I want to listen. I really do listen. I want to help others with issues that are of concern for them and be a part of the AHA! moment that is sure to come when 2 or more are gathered together... there is power in being together. I know, I've been there.

We were never meant to do life alone. You are not alone even if you feel that way right now. You are not alone no matter what you think.

You are not alone.

In fact, we are all connected. Have you ever come across someone and had a "feeling" that you should speak to them? Have you ever wondered what was really going on behind your friend's eyes when they made that comment? What did they really mean? Did you ask?

Did you ask?

Communication. The word itself is foreign to many. It strikes fear into the hearts of some. We walk around in the midst of people and we have our head down with our ipod turned up as loud as we can take it, all the while feeding our minds with whatever that sound emits. And we miss our chances... chances to interact, chances to be available, chances to make a person feel valued.

YOU miss chances to show anyone who is looking that you can commit a random act of truth or goodness and leave that moment better than it was before you entered into it! You may not care about that, but I wish you did.

I really wish you did.

If you did, I did, and everyone else did, the world would cease to be the way we have come to know it. Everything would change. Think about it. Everything would change. Think about it. Everything would change. Think about it.

Think about it!

It is almost certain that when you walk around in the midst of this mass of humanity with your eyes and ears open, you will have the opportunity to participate in some form of communication. Smile, nod, bow, open a door, lift a bag, wave, reach down, say yes to "them" instead of no. There are many ways to be a part of the human story. Have you ever given it any thought? Have you ever?

Ever?

I remember being in New York City a few years back. My wife Cornelia and I were walking down toward the theatre district. We were there with our friends Leisa, Yolanda, and Kim. At this time however, we were alone. We have traveled extensively, and there is a familiar scene that you cannot overlook, especially later in the evening or first thing in the morning. Them. What you and I see are referred to as "them."

We have always been aware of the destitute. Some refer to them as "them" even today. You've seen them. Those who live on the streets for whatever reason. I have come to appreciate and recognize their unique dependence on kindness. This dependence is a result, I believe, of the absolute possibility that kindness from someone, at some point, somehow might have opened their eyes to hope. It is never too late to offer hope to one who needs it.
We were walking and we came upon a little withered, bent over woman who spoke no English. She was disheveled, desperate, and cold. It was the dead of winter and she wore no more than a tattered sweater over a long dress. I watched as my wife bent down with her and took her red hands in hers. She immediately removed her fancy gloves and helped the startled woman into them. The woman smiled and rubbed her hands warmly as we fell all over ourselves to give her some money.

I have witnessed many acts of kindness. I have participated in my own. I have watched my son repeat, with precision, something I know he witnessed his father doing. I am alive with the knowledge that we hold the keys (goodness and truth) to the kingdom of heaven. We each have one of our very own. A key that is. This key is a divinely-inspired place that resides in each of us. It is actually aching to be utilized. It is purposeful, and I am convinced that with each act of goodness and truth, we bring ourselves closer to God and ever closer to using our key.

What do you think? Do you think? You should not only think, you should do something.

So for those that detest rambling as much as I, let's leave this discussion open... once more.
...as of August 5, 2008,there is still no evidence of world peace. So you can rest assured, we will revise this blog again.

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