A Response

There has been many tweets about a particular individual who gets nasty and venomous when he sees people have unfollowed him. While I have read the reports, I also did my homework and researched it myself to confirm this. There have been many requesting I unfollow this individual as well. I would like to share with these people, and all who may be interested, why - after prayerful consideration - I will not.

You are not the first to request I unfollow one person or another, due to a wide range of reasons, including that those I follow may be:

- homosexual
- pagan
- atheist
- jewish
- muslim
- republican
- democrat
- liberal
- conservative
- right-to-lifer
- pro-choice
- Obama supporter
- Obama hater
- OWS supporter
- OWS hater

... you get the idea.

As I state in my blog "About Me" - I'm an open, friendly person who gets along with any type of person and welcome anyone to converse with me on any subject. Everyone brings with them something I can learn no matter their ability, background, education, income, intellect, lifestyle, nationality, position, religious beliefs, or any other lines with which humanity tends to divide itself. The world is filled with wondrous variety and I strive to find the Light and Love that exists in each and every person.

While this particular case is about one person, I still see the trend, a pattern. The call to isolate and banish someone. I grew up the outcast one! I was the outsider! Even the kids that were picked on and beaten up by the class bullies did the same cruel things to me, just to prove to themselves they were not the very bottom of the social pecking order! I hated it. I still hate it! When I see a group rally to do that to someone I cringe. I cry.

I will not unfollow, nor will I promote what is wrong - on either side of this battle. I am here only to erase lines - not draw them. I am here to connect with all of humanity - we are all the same under the skin. I encourage people to shine the Light within and share the Love we all have inside. I will not encourage hate.

If I choose to unfollow, I only do so for two reasons: either they are not following me, and I need to free up some follows to follow others who are interested in interacting with me, or their profile page reads like an advertising column. I get enough sales pitches in my day job and on TV.

I will not condone your reasons for not following one you find offensive; that is your right and your choice. But I recall that Christ was found in the company of tax-collectors, prostitutes, lepers, Romans and those whom others found repulsive and avoided being seen in their company. I choose to follow where He leads, not where others tell me to go.

I choose not to cast a stone.

Thank you for reading this.
May Peace be found in your heart.
May you follow Love from the start.

- ESA

Prayer for the Protesters

As tensions grow, violence erupts. The scenes from Oakland are tragic and could spur open hatred.

On the other hand, watching Survivor last night, I saw prayer helped one team snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. So I had shared the prayer below with the Movement this morning.

As things continue to escalate, perhaps starting protest gatherings - or even each day - with a simple prayer can help those involved keep some important aspects in mind through the course of events.

The following is a simple prayer designed as an inter-faith request:

We gather here today, with peaceful intentions in our heart.
We ask that we receive wisdom and guidance from the start.
We ask on this day, we set aside greed and hate,
For it is a better world that we try to create.
We ask for inner guidance; let nothing be hurled,
For we are a peaceful group seeking a better world.
(~Anonymous)

Please share; a prayer may make a huge difference.

- ESA

Holiday Pileup

I can't speak for any high-end stores, as I can't afford to go shopping there, but I've recently heard about Nordstrom's decision not to put up Christmas decorations until after Thanksgiving. I give that notion two thumbs up.

Starting as early as August, holiday goods are out on shelves in stores, piling up Back-to-School, Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas. My husband and I have a laugh whenever we pause near the mix & match conglomerate of holiday decorations. Here are a few random combinations of the audible ones we've heard:

- Here comes Santa Claus, here comes Santa Claus... I want to drink your blood!
- Beware! BEWARE! ... Santa Claus is coming to town.
- Have a holly-jolly Christmas... *Blood-curdling scream!*
- Welcome to the mansion of madness... HoHoHo! Merry Christmas!
- Rudolf the red-nosed reindeer... meet my friend, bloody dagger!
- I'm dreaming of a white... night filled with terror and blood!

Yes, I think taking the holidays one at a time is a good idea.

- Happy Halloween / All Hallow's Eve / All Soul's Day
- Happy Thanksgiving
- Merry Christmas
- Happy New Year

Now can someone pass the pumpkin-glazed turkey stuffed with candy-canes before the ball drops at midnight. :P

- ESA

Furry Fun

Some of my readers may read the title and think cute little pets. Not quite. I am a fan of anthropomorphic (animals and other non-humans that display human characteristics), otherwise known as "furry." This past weekend, my husband and I attended a furry convention known as FurFright. It was a great time; I saw a few old friends and met many new ones. Most of all, I got my batteries charged and my creative writing got a good kick in the derriere.

Before some of you may think, "Oh, like the one on the TV show CSI?" No. Definitely not like the CSI episode. While I cannot speak for all furry conventions, I would like to take some time here and show you what I see and experience, hopefully giving you an idea of why I enjoy FurFright so much.

Acceptance: This is one of the biggest things that draws me to furry fandom. People accept each other, regardless of outward appearance, background, world location, economic level, sexual preference, religion, political affiliation, nationality and many other lines which humanity divides itself. When you see a wolf sharing a hug with a rabbit, or the lion and ram sitting down in a friendly conversation, it gives hope for the rest of us. We can go beyond the social divisions and see the person deep within, regardless of outward appearances.

Hugs: Growing up, hugs were rare in my life, even among family members or good friends. I find a friendly hug a good thing. It lifts the spirit, shows that you care and others care about you. There is even evidence to indicate that hugs help heal. Even if you are not into being hugged, you can't help but see them at this conference. The people that attend are open, friendly and good-natured. If one doesn't get their share of hugs there, they are purposely keeping to themselves.

Creativity: The furry fandom has a plethora of creativity, in every possible avenue one can imagine. Artwork, costuming and writing are the three biggest ones, and there are many panels on these. Then there are others: film-making, animation, voice-over, sound-effects, podcasting, dancing, drumming, music-making, make-up (costuming, not the stuff from women's magazines), photography, videography, origami, kirigami, wood-carving, sculpture, soft-sculpture, etc. - even ham-radio operations and classic cars that I saw this year. Given our nature, we're very generous with sharing what we've learned with others - furry and non-furry.

Playful: In a world of social rules, regulations and restrictions, it's good to find a place where one can relax and let their playful side out, without the need of drugs or alcohol. At FurFright, one did not need either as an excuse to "be a kid" - even the "gray-muzzles" like myself that carry an AARP card. There is something in seeing the world through a child's eyes; those who have kids or spend time showing kids the world can understand this statement. Even as an adult, we can shed the "worldly weight" of years and be a kid again for a short time. Even the hotel staff were wearing costumed ears by the end of the convention, including the manager. :D We seem to learn more, accept each other more and get along better when we are child-like. That's "child-like", not "childish." Temper-tantrums weren't part of the convention. ;-)

Inter-generational Sharing: Since I mentioned "gray-muzzle" in the prior paragraph, I should add this point here. One morning while I was in the lobby, I got into a conversation with those seated there. One person commented that he was getting too old to stay up all night. I commented that he was still young, to which he adamantly rebuked me with "Well I'm 20 now! I'm not that young any more." LoL Joking aside, what transpired next is what touched me inside. The younger generations actually listened to what the older ones shared, not just in fandom experiences but in life. And then the 20-somethings shared with us what they saw and the nuggets their own short life has brought them, such as a suggestion that every new driver should go out on calls to accidents before they get their full driver's license. What's even more amazing; the older generations LISTENED to the younger ones too. We don't see that often; it's something that should be done though. Age brings wisdom, but every generation has something to contribute. None of us are too old or too young to share and we should be willing to listen to all ages.

Generosity: Sometimes it seems those who have little, give much. While many in the fandom cram four or more into a hotel room to save on the costs of attending a con, very few are stingy in donating. Each furry conference that I know has a non-profit charity to which they donate. Not just a cut of the admission/membership costs, they hold charity auctions where others contribute goods to auction off. FurFright even has a bucket-brigade that goes around and asks for pocket change; it adds up. Most furry conventions sponsor animal-based charities, such as no-kill shelters, greyhound retirement/adoption, aide-dog organizations, wolf park and other natural reserves. FurFright sponsored War Dogs this year, more of which can be found here.

But I think the true nature of our generosity showed a few years ago, again at FurFright. One day security was notified that someone had stolen the head of a costume. Many in the furry community know these heads are handmade and can go for several thousand dollars. But those at the convention were actually shocked; we could barely conceive someone stealing the head. In the fandom, that is equivalent to stealing a person's character. It wasn't an attendee but a hotel staff member that stole the head. While it was the last day of the three-day conference, and many of those attending were "flat broke," a bucket-brigade went around and most turned out all the free money they had and collectively donated it to the head's owner. As each head is completely unique, it would never replace what was lost, but it helped toward getting a new one. When one of us is in need, we give all we can indeed.



Mature content: To some, "furry" is synonymous with "porn." I'd like to clarify something here. It's NOT. While there are some artwork or writings with mature content, the society in general does adhere to strict guidelines: no one under 18. Period. Even in the panels, we checked around the room to ensure that there was no minors. If there was, even our discussions were "G-rated."

Spiritual: There is also a spiritual side to the fandom, including a panel on Furry Spirituality. The fandom follows many different world religions, including Christian, Jewish, Pagan, Neo-Pagan, Wiccan, Druidic, Shamanistic, Buddhist, Taoist, etc. We don't judge each other and even learn more of each other at this con. I would like to share something I took away from this year's panel. We - humanity - are not the body others see in this world. That does not define us. We are the spirit within the body. We are interconnected to each other and this world. And we are far, far greater than what many think being "human" is.

There are some that turn to furfandom, otherkin, Harry Potter or the growing trend of vampires and werewolves because they believe being "human" is just what they see - greed, corruption, cruelty, war, hardship, bullies, and all the evils they see of the world from the news reports. Let's face it, if a winged unicorn landed in New York's Central Park and started farting rainbows and a mugger attacked someone in the South Bronx, and that was the ONLY two events that happened in New York City that day, every news person would be in the South Bronx to cover that story. The media covers all the worst parts of humanity. There are many, many more beautiful things that happen, many bright moments of humanity, but they so often are lost amidst the noise that the media puts out. What we are - what humanity is - is something that can do great good or great harm. It's our choice. We can reflect the darkness, or let our light shine. Some need to step "outside" human perimeters because they only see the darkness there; I don't blame them. Let the light shine where it can, and that light will be brought back to the rest of humanity when they are ready to accept it.

- ESA / (Miss Cellaneous Mouse)

Lion & Little Mouse (Story)

With the fall colors shining bright, my mind brings this fall story to light. I wanted to share it with my readers. Written in 2008.... feel free to copy/paste & share, as long as you do not receive funds for it anywhere. :D

____________________________________________________________________

Lion and Little Mouse

One day a little white mouse was scurrying about trying to prepare for the cold dark winter days ahead. She was a tiny thing, even for a mouse, but she had a very big heart. Before making her own preparations, she stopped to help others first. By the time she started her own preparations, there wasn't much left in reach.

The little mouse ranged further and further from the safety of her home looking for what she needed to survive the cold dark winter days ahead. On one of these long journeys, she broke through the tall golden autumn grass and found herself practically nose to nose with a lion that had been resting there. Her whiskers quivered in fear and a piercing startled squeak leapt from her throat on its own volition.

Her squeak must have awakened the sleeping lion for he opened his golden eyes and gazed calmly at her. Realizing she had just disturbed the King of all the Animals, the little mouse hunkered down and lowered her round white ears. "I- I'm sorry, Your Great Majesty, for disturbing your rest," she timidly squeaked and quickly turned to scamper off.

The lion's quick paw came down gently but firmly on her little white tail pinning her there, regardless of how fast her paws scrambled against the ground. The poor little mouse was now terrified and she froze in horror with the realization that she was now trapped.

The lion smiled gently and picked the little mouse up by her tail and lightly placed her on his other paw, bringing her closer to his penetrating gaze. Though sunlight sparkled from his own whiskers, the little mouse couldn't peel her eyes from the sharp white teeth that were now clearly visible.

A gentle chuckle rose from the lion's broad chest. "Don't be afraid, little mouse. I am not hungry nor do I toy with you. What brings such a little mouse so far from her home?"

"Oh, please, Your Majesty! I was just preparing for the dark winter days ahead. All the supplies within reach were already gathered near my home so I had to go further out this year seeking what I need. Please just let me go and I'll be on my way. I did not wish to disturb you."

"And why did you not gather what you needed before now, little mouse?"

"I helped some of my friends and neighbors to make sure they were ready for the cold dark winter days ahead. That is why I had a late start. Again, kind Lion, please let me go and I'll be on my way."

"Not so fast, little mouse. Why did you not seek help of your friends and neighbors when you set out to gather your own supplies?"

"I am still young and able. I do not wish to be a burden to anyone as long as I am able to do for myself."

"Ah!" commented the lion. "But now you are far from home and alone. But you are not truly alone; for I am here. I will help you."

"You?!?" squeaked the mouse curling her tiny ears back along her head. "Why would the King of all the Animals want to help a little mouse like me?"

The lion smiled knowingly and lowered the mouse to the ground. "There may be a day when I need your help."

Puzzled the little white mouse tilted her head back to look up at the lion that towered over her; the sunlight danced in his noble mane so very, very far above her. "If there is ever a time when you need my help, I am willing to do so. But you do not need to help me now, Noble Lion."

The lion's smile broadened and his golden eyes sparkled with a secret knowledge. "Even if you believe that now, little mouse, I will help you. It will make your quest easier and you will be ready for the cold dark winter days ahead."

And so the lion helped the little white mouse, lifting her high so she could reach what she needed to survive the cold dark winter days ahead. He even carried the little mouse and her supplies back to her home.

"I thank you, friend Lion," squeaked the little mouse from her doorway. "And if you ever need any help that I can provide, I will gladly do so. But I still cannot think HOW a little mouse like myself will be able to help the King of all the Animals."

The lion smiled knowingly and nodded his acceptance of her thanks and timid offer of help. "We shall see what the future holds."

Some days later, the lion was out on patrol. The nearby man's village was growing and pushing the animal’s territory into a smaller and smaller area. It was near sundown on this day, and the construction site had been abandoned by the workers for the day. Curious as to what they were doing to the land that was once lived in by the animals he ruled, he wandered among the buildings and poked his whiskered white tipped nose here and there sniffing.

It wasn't long before his great forepaw came down on a small steel roofing nail. At first it didn't hurt as much, but the more he tried to work it out, the deeper the nail bit into his paw. At last the pain was too great and an agonized roar escaped his throat.

All the animals heard their King's roar of pain. They all ran, scampered and trotted toward the sound. But each and every one of the animals stopped at the edge of construction site. None would dare enter where humans have tread, even to help their King.

The lion by then was in such pain he couldn't walk the distance back to where the animals were. "Please, help me!" begged the lion. "The nail has bitten deep into my paw and I cannot get it out!"

None of the animals moved, but the crowd observing their King's pain grew as more and more animals arrived at the scene.

At last the little white mouse also arrived. She had to weave in and out of all the other animals to see what the commotion was about. When she saw her lion friend hurt in the middle of what man had made, she turned to the other animals. "Can't you see he's in pain? Why has no one gone to help him?"

"Foolish little mouse!" growled the black panther. "That's man's world. Even I will not go there. If that lion decided to enter into man's world, he's on his own. We will not risk own hides to help him."

The little mouse's whiskers quivered in rage. "How can you say that? Isn't he your King as well as mine? I don't care where he is, I'll go over there and help him." With a swish of her long white tail, she scampered over the embankment and entered the construction site.

In a few minutes she was once again before the lion, her sides heaving from the long run. The lion looked down at the little white mouse with pain in his golden eyes and he looked back across the way at all the gathered animals. "Why is it only you who has come to my aide?" he asked.

"They don't want to enter man's world; they're afraid." She looked around herself with wide panicked eyes. "I'm a bit frightened too, but I remembered my promise to you. I'll help if I can. But I'm so little I don't know if my services will do you any good."

"Yes, you can help, little friend." The lion stretched forth the forepaw. "There is a nail in my paw and it hurts something fierce."

The little mouse scurried over the great paw and tilted her white head as she studied the nail. "It's such a little nail. It's actually a bit smaller than I am." She stood up on her hindpaws and gripped the nail with both forepaws. Then she pulled with all her might.

The lion hissed a moment as the nail pulled free and then sighed greatly in relief. "Thank you, little friend. That is much better." He lowered his shoulder to the little mouse. "Get on my back, little mouse. I will carry you home. You have come a great distance to help me."

She gratefully hopped on his shoulder and climbed the rest of the way to his spine where she comfortably settled herself at the base of his golden mane. As she rode back through the construction site, she noted the look of all the gathered animals. They were not happy. Though they did not want to help the lion, they were not happy that she received special treatment because she did. She felt even more timid and her tummy started to flutter. "Friend Lion......" she began hesitantly.

"Yes, little mouse?" answered the lion as he gazed over his shoulder at her.

"Can I ask something of you... I'm very grateful for all your help before and for the ride now, but what I did was such a small thing. Please don't treat me any differently than the other animals."

The lion paused and fixed the little white mouse with his golden gaze. "But you are the one who came out to help me where no one else would go."

"To me it doesn't matter. I'd help you out of friendship, not for a reward. Please, Your Majesty, I'm just a little mouse, shy like all my kind. Don't you see the way the others glare in my direction. I'm not comfortable way up high like this. Just let me be me and free, that is what I desire."

"If you are certain, so shall it be, my little friend."

So once again, the lion carried the little mouse to her home and let her scamper down to her front door. "I shall not forget this, friend, even if everyone else does. Call on me if you ever need help again."

The mouse smiled warmly. "Thank you, friend Lion. And if I can ever help you again, don't hesitate to call on me."

And they were good friends ever since.

- ESA

Over the Wall (True Story)

With recent news from the Walk On Wallstreet/99% Movement, there is an old story that came to mind. It is a true story dating back to either the 1940's or 1950's in New York City's Central Park. My grandfather was a "cop" who literally walked the beat in those days. I do not know if he was part of the following event, or heard about it in his precinct. But the event is reported as true... and not that uncommon an occurrence (at least in those days).

____________________________________________________________________

Late one night, two cops were walking the beat along the perimeter of their precinct in Central Park. One of the boundaries between two precincts was this wall that reached just over their heads. Huddled at the foot of this wall, the two cops found a homeless man, wrapped in layers of all the clothes he had with his meager possessions piled around him. They could tell from the snow falling on him, that the man was dead, and the body cooling. His passing must not have happened that long ago as rigor mortis had not yet set in.

The two cops held a quick consultation about what to do. The protocol was to bring the body back to the police house and process it. However, tonight was Christmas Eve and their shift was just ending. If they brought in the body now, they would be there for HOURS filling out all the paperwork, waiting to see if anyone would I.D. the body, and so on. Kids would be waking up early to unwrap presents and wives were waiting at home. There was no time for this.

So one took the shoulders and the other took the feet and, together, they tossed the homeless man's body over the wall into the other precinct.

Well, it just so happened that on the other side of the wall, two other cops were also walking the beat. There was a cry of protest. A scuffling. And a moment later, the homeless man's body was seen sailing over the wall back into their precinct. The others didn't want to extend their shift either.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Some may find this funny. I know my dad did. He would laugh as he told it, often after drinking a bit too much. When we were kids, he taught my siblings and I to laugh at this too.

Now I find it deplorable!

This was a man - a fellow human being - who died cold and alone on Christmas Eve! They callously threw this man's body back and forth over the wall like an overstuffed ping-pong ball.

I do not know what my readers think when they observe the recent protests. It also doesn't matter if you side with them or not. I hope you, like I, take this as an opportunity to take a good hard look at how we treat others around us, particularly the BOTTOM 1%.

What would you have done on that Christmas Eve?

Do unto others as you would have done unto you.

Do not do unto others as you would not have done unto you.

Whatsoever you do to the least of these, that you do unto me.

- ESA

Soup Story (Story)

Hearing the cooperation among neighbors following the recent hurricanes, this story came to mine. I wanted to re-post it, written originally in 2008.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Soup Story

There was once a little village in a time not so long ago. Unlike the days of old when the villagers once worked the land as their ancestors, these villagers got into their cars and traveled a distance – sometimes a great distance to get to the jobs they worked. For you see, these jobs paid for the food on their table, paid for the clothes on their back and paid for the roof over their head. But in those days, taxes weren’t so high, jobs paid well, and there was even time for leisure where the village would hold picnics and parties and music concerts on the village green. Neighbors and friends had time to visit one another and even help one another. It was a close knit community. There was even money to spare, and the village would raise funds to donate to charities, such as the soup kitchens in the nearby cities. This went on for several years.

Then times changes, as they sometimes do. Businesses closed nearby and the villagers had to travel even further from home. Leisure time became less. Neighbors stopped seeing each other as much, but would still make time to attend the gatherings on the village green. Unfortunately, they didn’t have the time to visit each other nor help one another like before. Money was still good, but not as good as before. Donations were slimmer at the charities. This went on for some years.

Times changed again. Businesses were laying off, and taxes were rising. The villagers also changed a bit more inside. It had been some time since they knew their neighbors. There were fewer and fewer people they recognized at the village gatherings. Who were all these new people? Where did they come from? Are they after our jobs? If they take our jobs, how will I feed my family? Will we loose our home?

The the news spoke of terrible things that neighbor did against neighbor, and informed one and all that they should be alert against strangers. The attendance at the village green shrank and eventually the village no longer held these outings. Villagers would get home, stay on their own lot and lock their windows and doors, careful not to be noticed by any strangers in their midst.

Then taxes continued to rise, the price of gas skyrocketed and jobs were cut again. With money only trickling in and signs that there were even tougher times ahead, donations dried up. The nearby soup kitchens closed.

Now, during this time, on a bright autumn day, a minister to the poor and hungry in the nearby city decided to try the local villages to see if he could get any donations to reopen the soup kitchens. But try as he might, house by house, block by block, no one had anything to spare, not even a box of macaroni and cheese or a can of soup. Some would not even open the door because he was a stranger.

It didn’t take this minister long to see that not only had this village come upon hard economic times, but the community itself that once thrived in villages like this had also vanished. Taking the villagers into his heart, he decided to do something to help them before he went on his way to the next village.

Near the town green, he spied an old propane grill on one side of someone’s home. He knocked on the door again and said to the surly man who answered, “Excuse me, sir, I know you do not have any food to spare, but I just noticed your gas grill – the one rusting on the side of your house. Could I borrow it to heat up some food out there on the green? You see, we’re going to have an end of the season party, a nice one with food and games and music and laughter. We could use your grill.”

The surly man eyed the minister suspiciously. “Why? There’s no any gas for it.”

The minister merely shrugged, “I would appreciate it if you let me borrow it all the same. I will certainly return it when I’m done.”

The surly man gazed at the minister a long minute and ran his eyes over the expanse of the village green. A few lonely oak trees stood majestically, brightly colored leaves fluttering to the empty lawn beneath them. There was no one on the green or even outside. “Who’s the ‘we’ at this party? There’s no one out there.”

The minister smiled broadly, “Oh, the whole village is invited; you’re more than welcome to come too. It’ll be fun!”

The surly neighbor’s eyes narrowed and he thought a few moments. “What will you charge for those attending?”

“Charge?” asked the minister shocked. “Why nothing! This is merely a friendly gathering. Friends don’t charge friends when they gather together. But” added the minister, “if you feel like bringing anything out to share, it will be more than appreciated. However, it’s not a requirement.”

The surly man shook his head and the beginnings of a smile crept at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t know what you’re up to, you old coot. But sure, you can borrow my grill. But I can’t give you anything else…” He stepped out of his home and unlocked the grill from the metal pole that secured it.

“I thank you for your loan, that is more than sufficient,” added the minister as he wheeled the grill across the road and onto the village green.

Next, the minister found another gas grill – this time with an empty propane tank. After a similar conversation, he wheeled the second grill next to the first.

Then he found someone who had a little propane left in his tank a little further from the green and managed to acquire this and connected it to the first grill.

After that, the minister wound his way to some of the neighbors and was able to obtain four oversized pots – two for each grill.

With a little bit of a jig in his walk, the minster then went in search of water. “Just a little tap water will do just fine” he told them. Soon he had all four of the borrowed pots full.

By now, the villagers had become very curious. Even though they were suspicious of this stranger in their midst, what kind of harm could he do with four large pots of water, two gas grills and barely enough propane to light one grill for two minutes. They started to gather on the green, keeping their distance from this strange minister and each other, but curious one and the same.

The minister looked up from his work as he finished pouring the last of the water into the forth pot. He smiled broadly and pointed to the nearby picnic tables that had become grey and weathered and long since unused. “It’s going to take some time before the soup will be ready. Perhaps you could sit there and play some games until then.”

The villagers looked wide-eyed at the tables and back to the minister. “There’s no games over there,” one of the villagers called back.

The minister looked over at the tables as if surprised. “Oh, I haven’t gotten them yet. Does anyone know who would be willing to loan us some cards or maybe a board game we can play until the soup is ready?”

“I have some cards I can bring out,” one villager called back and hurried back to her home.

“My kids have some fun board games,” replied another and he hurried off in a different direction.

In no time there were quite a few villagers out on the green on this nice sunny autumn day. Some brought a baseball, bat and gloves and started an impromptu game in one corner; others were playing dodgeball or tag, while those gathered around the picnic tables watched or played the various games that had started there.

In the meantime the minister went out again, asking house to house for some salt, pepper, and common herbs and seasonings. These he added to the cold water in the four large pots above the two unlit grills.

A young man, at the prompting of some neighbors went over to the minister. “How do you expect to heat this soup without any propane?”

The minister tapped the gauge of one tank -- just under a sixteenth of a tank. “This is enough to start. But if someone could donate a little more, I would greatly appreciate it. It will heat up the soup that much faster.”

The young man, smiled and almost laughed. “I’d say it would….” He paused and glanced over at his family. “Say, I have about half a tank at home. This is probably the last time we’d have to use it. I’ll bring it over.”

The minister grinned broadly, “Thank you.”

By the time the young man walked back to the green with the propane tank on his shoulder, a second villager was heading out to get his. Soon the two grills were lit and a vapor of steam wafted off the surface of the contents of the four pots.

A middle-aged woman wandered over as minister was stirring with a long-handled wooden spoon he managed to borrow from somewhere. She glanced into the pots with a knowing eye and commented, “That’s a mighty thin soup you’ve got there.”

“Yes,” replied the minister with a sad smile. “But these are thin times and we can not give what we don’t have…”

The woman glanced at the minister and then at the growing crowd on the village green. “I have some potatoes I was planning for our dinner tonight. It looks like we’re going to be eating here instead, so I’ll bring them out to you. It’s not much but it will help your soup.”

The minister smiled broadly and the hints of tears appeared in his eyes. “That would be a very generous donation, ‘mam. Thank you very much.”

The woman returned with an armload of potatoes, just enough for one and a half in each pot. When she returned to the villagers gathered around the tables, some asked her why she gave the stranger her food. When she told them her reasons, a few others nodded and departed to their kitchens. Soon a few limp carrots and some cabbage were added to the pots.

An old man wandered over to pots and commented to the minister. “You know, sonny. I remember a lean time long before this. My mum would make soup like this back in the ‘30’s. It was a real treat for us when we could get hold of some chicken necks to toss in there.”

The minister’s nose crinkled a bit. “Chicken necks?”

“Aye, sonny, there’s some meat to be had on the necks and there’s flavor from the bones.”

The minister nodded and laughed a little. “It’s a nice thought, but I don’t think the local supermarket carries chicken necks.”

“Laugh and think what you will, sonny. But I used to be a butcher. I still do some butchering now and then.” And the old man winked at the minister. “I have some in my freezer now, if you promise not to tell the others what they are. They think I’m old and crazy as it is.”

The minister’s eyes widened with delight. “That would be wonderful!”

The old man shuffled off to his home humming an old tune that arose from his heart.

Little by little, the small donations the villagers made thickened the soup. Soon the aroma filled the village green and the hungry villagers passed the remaining time playing games, and singing songs accompanied by the guitars and other musical instruments people had brought out. Laughter and the buzz of conversation among neighbors rose in the village green as the shadows of the great oaks extended across the autumn-dry grass.

In the fading daylight the villagers headed home for their bowls and mugs as well as jackets and wraps. They lined up peaceably while the minister spooned out the soup to any who wanted it. In the cool air after a fun day in the sunshine, the soup was warm and wonderful. Everyone had a smile on their face.

Those who loaned the pots were surprised there was some soup leftover and offered some to their neighbors as they headed home.

When the gas grills where wheeled away and the last of the villagers were heading home in the darkness. The minister returned to his car with a sigh. He didn’t accomplish what he planned to do here; there was still no food for the soup kitchen… Then he heard two people talking as they walked by his car on their way home.

“You know, Joe, that was fun. We should do that more often.”

“You’re right, Bob. It’s amazing how far so little food could go.”

The minister smiled to himself as he realized maybe he didn’t fail at all…

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

- ESA

9/11 Memories & Thanks

While many news stories cover memories of Americans from the terror that struck us one decade ago, I'd like to share a few stories recalled from those days - and thanks to many non-Americans.

When all traffic was grounded, several inbound flights were re-routed to our neighbors to the north in Canada. Canadians opened their hearts and opened their homes to displaced Americans who just wanted to get home to their loved ones after hearing the devastating news. Some even got into their cars and drove hundreds if not thousands of miles to get people home.

In Europe, not only did local residents share the news with visiting Americans and offer their heartfelt support on that day. A few days later, they held a three-minute moment of silence for us. One-minute is standard; three-minutes is unprecedented. And they didn't just bow their heads a moment. People eating lunch, put down their cups and utensils. People driving - local road and highway - as one pulled aside, stopped and gave us the full three minutes of silence. People stopped talking; radios were silent. This wasn't just in America; this was in Europe FOR America.

These are just two stories I've heard in the last 24 hours. There are many, many more cases where we were supported by others around the world. As we celebrate the 10th Anniversary of 9/11. Let us not only share our memories, let us be thankful for the support and heartfelt compassion shown by others around the world.

- ESA

Hurricane in Hindsight (True Stories)

While Irene did leave a path of destruction up the eastern US seaboard, there are a few nuggets I would like to share with my readers of things I've seen following in Irene's wake.

While in the dark for days in CT, we were able to use our battery-powered radio to get some news, including a broadcast I overheard from one of Long Island (NY)'s radio stations. While there was damage, and thousands of people were without electrical power, neighbor came out and helped neighbor. In other parts of the country, this may be the norm, but not as much in and around NYC. The news had the reporter in awe and he added, "We have not seen such neighborly acts of people reaching out to one another in this area since 9/11."

One story I heard from a customer in Richmond, VA: The day following the hurricane, no one in his neighborhood could get out of the driveway, let alone down the street. So many trees had fallen, but 15 neighbors in the area got together and spent the day cutting and moving the fallen trees. He jokingly added they were all stocked up with firewood for the winter.

In CT, the local news reported what areas were out of power. Those few who had power opened their homes for others to come over for a meal, a hot shower, or even just to charge their electronic devices, such as cell phones, laptops and children's video games. Local high schools acquired generators so they could offer the same. Each night, people in darkened homes would go outside and share with their neighbors the news they heard, report where there was food to buy, power to charge items, and where we may get some ice...

Within 24-hours there was a shortage on ice. However, untold numbers of water bottles were packed in working freezers as well as ice cubes bagged to go for friends and neighbors who had no power. Room was made in freezers & refrigerators to help keep what little food could be saved.

In some parts of our small state, there was no gas available; a combination of high demand for all the independent generators and vehicles, plus inaccessibility to get fuel trucks into areas and the stations not having power to pump the fuel. Many grabbed gas cans when power came back in their town and drove some fuel to others who lived in the more remote parts of the state, keeping them going a bit further. For those who may not realize this, unless one lives in a city or some of the "downtowns" that have public water, when you loose power, you loose water too.

In our apartment complex, a community dinner was organized on the third day without power. Anything that people had been able to keep with ice in melting freezers was cooked up, and we collectively sat outside on that beautiful evening to a feast that would rival many Thanksgiving dinners.

Other nights, a neighbor gathered fallen tree branches around the area and had a make-shift campfire in her bar-b-que. Kids spent the time chasing each other with flashlights and the light from their phones and video games, playing hide-and-seek in the vast darkness where we usually have many security lights.

One evening CT's public radio called a public radio station in Vermont to review the devastation and ask how our neighbors to the north were doing. From Vermont came a remarkable story that I have not heard shared elsewhere. In the communities that were completely cut off from the rest of the State because roads were washed away, neighbor came out to help neighbor "just as we did in the old days." There was a daily gathering in the town greens, where people asked what was needed and collectively determined how those needs would be met that day. They could not depend on supplies from outside. For example, they would go out into the fields and harvest what was ripe - by hand. Then they would gather again on the green and cook the food, sharing it so all could eat.

A week after the hurricane, we traveled to Long Island to help my mom. On our return trip Monday over the Throgs Neck Bridge we saw hundreds of CanFer electric utility worker trucks lined up from the toll gate. They were heading back to Texas after working on Long Island for the past week. How many others traveled to the east coast to repair outages from the Carolinas to Maine? While they are paid for their labor, I am sure many missed home and family. I, for one, appreciate their help. :)

There are sad stories, which the media loves to cover, much of which is already forgotten in the wake of other hurricanes, wildfires and other news. But there are also happy stories too. We were blessed with unseasonably beautiful weather for almost a week after the hurricane - perfect days where we did not need heat nor air-conditioning. The outages were scattered so that some power was found in driving distance. People had many opportunities to help others near and far.

When other disasters come in its day,
May neighbor help neighbor in this way.

- ESA

Hurricane (Story)

Hurricane Irene brought this story to mind. Originally published here. I thought to share this with my readers today. I know they would not necessarily fly a helicopter in the hurricane; it's part of the story. Enjoy. :)
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

One day there was a bad storm causing tremendous flooding.

The whole area had been ordered to evacuate, but one man stood his ground and said, "No, I have Faith that God will save me."

All his neighbors left.

A jeep pulled up to his house and the driver called out, "Hey, guy, it's time to leave."

The National Guards pounded on his door, trying to convince him to leave.

He adamantly refused to leave, claiming, "No, I have Faith that God will save me."

The storm got worse, the water rose, lashing at the first floor windows.

A boat came by and the woman called out above the wind and rain, "HEY! You inside, you should have left earlier, but I can still get you to safety. It's time to go."

The man stayed inside, stubbornly refusing the assistance.

"No," he shouted back through a window, "I have Faith that God will save me."

The woman and boat moved on, searching for other survivors.

The waters continued to rise, eventually forcing the man up onto his roof where he clung to a chimney and prayed, "I still have faith in You, God. I know that You will save me."

A helicopter came.

The people within lowered a rope asking him to climb up.

He refused.

One of the rescuers lowered himself on another rope and tried to tie the rope around him.

He adamantly wrapped his arms around the chimney, hindering the efforts.

"No," he cried between clenched teeth, "I have Faith that God will save me."

With the storm's winds and rapidly rising water churning around his legs, the rescuer, at last, had to abandon the man to his fate and leave with the helicopter.

Soon after, the storm and the waters claimed the man on the roof -- drowning him.

The man found himself before the pearly gates of Heaven and stood puzzled before God.

"Why?" he asked. "Why? I had Faith that You would save me. Why did I drown when I had such Faith in You?"

God looked down at the man and shook His head sadly. "I sent you a jeep, a boat and a helicopter. What more did you want?"
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There are times when we expect God will send help in ways WE want. We seem to tell God how to save us, how to help us, how to behave.

When we do that, often we fail to see God working through others.

-ESA

Business Emergency Preparedness - Irene

As we prepare for the possibility of Hurricane Irene, I issued the notice below to all the company employees where I work. I wanted to share this with my readers in case it helps them prepare for this Hurricane or a similar emergency in the future.

My prayers are with all who are in the Hurricane's Path; plan, prepare and be safe everyone!

- ESA

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Good morning, Employees,

Due to the possibility of a Hurricane in the area of our corporate office, please be aware of the following procedures to minimize business interruptions.

• Evacuation: Considering elevation and proximity of the offices to the river, there is a remote possibility that the offices will be in an area of evacuation. In that unlikely event, no employee will be permitted access to the offices.

o We require that all employee phones be forwarded to cell phones by the end of the day today, Friday August 26^th. We will notify employees via phone if the offices are closed.

o We require all employees back up their computers by the end of the day.

o We require that all employees who have laptops bring them home, leaving the backup drives in the office fireproof safe.

o We request that all paperwork and other business items that may be needed for the next week be taken home by the employees today.

o We will mail out all checks due as payables Friday afternoon in the mail drop-box for Saturday pickup.

o We do not believe that our second-floor offices will see any water damage if there is local flooding, thus we do not need to take further precautions.

• Power Outage / Extended Power Outage: If the possible event of extended power outage, we require all key employees to take the additional necessary steps. Please keep in mind, depending on the hurricane’s severity, power outages could last up to a full business week. Cell / mobile phone signals will cease after 6-8 hours of continued power outage, due to power failures at the tower – regardless of the charge in your mobile device. Internet service will not be available if your home router does not have power; back-up / surge batteries only last a few hours. Further, if your local internet servers (located off your property) do not have power over an extended period, internet service for the area will be disrupted.

o By no later than Saturday, August 27th, we require that all key employees post an auto-response message notifying the possibility that we may not have access to e-mail. Given our remote webhosting provider’s capabilities, our new messages will be kept online until we can sync to them via laptop or mobile device. We can remove the auto-response message once the hurricane is past, our local areas has continuous power and the ISP service is functioning.

o Have a corded phone in either your home or to take with you to a location at which you will be located. When a power outage occurs in your local area, use the initial battery backup to the mobile phone system to forward your phone to the landline with the corded phone. You can remove that forward once you confirm that continuous power is returned to your area and the local cell phone towers are functioning. In the event that the landline phone service (which is powered with its own lines) does not function at your location for an extended period, please consider the possibility of a hotel or other location which has phone service available.

o Conserve the battery of your cell phone, laptop and other mobile devices. We strongly recommend, during a power outage, to use the devices for key business and emergency calls only. We also recommend you shut down any devices when you are not using them. We strongly recommend keeping all mobile devices plugged in, whenever possible, until the hurricane arrives to ensure maximum battery charge.

o Have a battery-powered radio to listen to local news. This will serve in the event you need to evacuate your area, as well as inform you after the storm to what areas of the state have power. In the event that you do not have one (or if the batteries fail), remember you can also use the one in your automobile.

o Bring with you the power supply / cords for your cell phones, laptops and mobile devices. In the event of extended power outages, listen to the radio for in-state locations with power. If possible, you can travel to those locations to use your devices there, to provide power, local mobile service and internet connection. Some suggestions include libraries, McDonalds, Starbucks and other locations with public wi-fi spots.

We sincerely hope and pray we will not experience either of these situations this weekend or the coming week, but we sincerely appreciate everyone’s preparations to ensure no significant interruptions to the business.

Thank you.

Judge Not

This post is essentially a lengthy response with which Twitter would be a poor medium. Forgoing my typical rhymes, I will speak plainly here.

"Judge NOT, lest you be judged."

There are many who advocate that to be a good Christian, or even a good person, one not only has the right to judge another, but has a sworn duty to do so, sometimes with a vengeance. I tweet against judging others, but here I will say why.

I believe we are called to Love each other, and to Forgive - not condemn - our brothers and sisters, essentially all of humanity. I agree that we should learn concepts of right/good actions and wrong (irresponsible, greedy, self-centered) actions. We can assess a situation without condemning a person.

When we judge, we place ourselves at a higher ground than the person whom we judge; we help feed our own ego in doing so. When we judge, we have in mind that we are better, wiser, even "holier" than another. Yet, we are all still very human and do NOT have knowledge and complete understanding of every situation - including precursory events, minute details, thoughts, feelings, the "big picture", and where the events lead to in the future. We are human, not God. Thus Judgment should be reserved for God alone.

Further, when we judge another, we hold up what we find wrong/offensive/evil, and our mind sees that instead of the person whom we have judged. If we hold this "sin" in mind when our thoughts are of that person, did we truly Forgive them? Is this the type of "Forgiveness" we seek for our own mistakes in this life?

Does "not judging" mean our hands are tied or we face the world with indifference? Certainly not! We do not judge the person, but we can assess an action or event. If we look at the event separate from the person, we can see what can be done. There is potential to do great good as well as great evil within every person. Our primary responsibility is to see the potential to do great good and see what we CAN do to enable that good to be accomplished, regardless of the past. That is a foundation for Forgiveness.

When we judge, we push the PERSON away from us, we condemn the person, not just the act. If we push the person away, there is no real way we can see the means to open paths to positive actions. We have shut the door.

We are called to be witnesses, not judges.

Do we see the good deep inside
Even when behavior helps it hide?
Do we open a path to a better day?
Or condemn & move on our way?

Be a witness to the good in another;
You will see your sister or brother.

- ESA

Greatest Treasure in the World (Story)

(Note to readers: For those who are sensitive to such, there is foul language in the story below, used where appropriate to the characters and setting of the story.)

* * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * *

There once was a man who had much in this world. He was quite intelligent, held several advanced degrees and lived a life of fun and luxury. Despite all this, he cared little about others in this world. He would share his gripes about how much he paid in taxes to support "the lazy slobs who should go out and get a job." He would look the other way whenever his gaze happened upon a homeless or poor person. He had his personal body guards keep away everyone he did not want in his company, whether they were people asking for a hands out for some pointless charity or a disgruntled employee - soon to be ex-employee.

One day, this man met a stranger who would take his life in a whole new direction. The stranger somehow avoided the body guards and approached the man, asking him - quite seriously - "What would you give to receive the greatest treasure in the world?"

Quite perplexed, the man was not quite sure how to respond. He had everything he could possibly want: beautiful women, a fine house, a good job, a huge income, a brilliant mind, even a fit body. But that night left him awake and restless in the large comfortable bed. "What is the greatest treasure in the world?" he asked himself. Silence answered.

The next day, the stranger approached him again and asked for his answer. "Fine," answered the man with a swagger. "I'm game. What is the greatest treasure in the world, and what do I need to give you to get it?"

"The price is so small that in the end you will not even notice it. I will not tell you what this treasure is, for it defies description. But once you receive it, you will not want anything else of this world."

At once, the man became skeptical. "I don't agree to any deal with undisclosed terms," he snapped.

The stranger opened his hands wide and shrugged. "I can only say you will not loose anything that you will desire to keep in the end."

The man's eyebrow rose, and then his brow lowered into a scowl. He did not know what to say and for a long moment he just glared at the stranger.

The stranger met his eyes, calmly and confidently. There was also a touch of sad compassion, as though he was aware of something the man wasn't. How could that be? Surely this stranger wasn't that intelligent.

"Deal!" the man practically shouted, extending his hand to shake the stranger's. The word seemed to leap of its own volition, in defiance of the stranger's gaze. Shaking hands, the man wondered to what he just agreed.

"It will begin tomorrow." The stranger explained as he prepared to walk away.

"WHAT will?"

"Your acquisition of the greatest treasure," the stranger called over his shoulder with a smile. The door swung silent behind him with finality.

* * * * * * * * * *

The next day, the stock market crashed. Half the man's fortune was gone. He left the office early and went home to drink himself to numbness. His manservant was handing him the gin & tonic over ice in a crystal glass when his secretary knocked on the ornate oak door and poked his head into the room. "Sir, there is an urgent call I need you to take."

The man groaned and asked, "What is it?"

"Sir... there's been an incident at the company."

"WHAT!?!?"

"An explosion, sir, but don't worry, we got everyone out before the fire spread."

"...FIRE???" The man leapt to his feet, spilling half the glass' contents down the front of his expensive custom-tailored suit.

"Uhm... err... yes, sir." The secretary pulled most of his slim body back behind the protection of the door, extending the cell phone toward the man sheepishly.

"DAMN! How bad? Oh, hell! Give me that damn phone!" He yanked the phone and listened. His face went from wrathful red to death-like pallor in moments. "Shit!" he muttered, sinking into a studded leather chair. "At least we have insurance for the--" There was a pause, and then he roared into the cell phone, "What the hell do you mean they filed for bankruptcy. They're an insurance company! They can't do that, can they???" Color bloomed in his cheeks as he listened a minute more then shouted, "What the hell are you doing wasting time??? We have attorneys to straighten all this out. Get them on the horn and get it done!" He slammed his thumb on the end-call button and sat there gripping the phone in his red-knuckled hand.

Then he turned his attention back to his secretary. "Get my accountants on the secure line; I'll take it in my office here. Let's see what I have left."

* * * * * * * * * *

In the months that ensued, a full ninety-eight percent of his fortune had slipped away. The business folded; his property either had to be sold off or somehow fell to misfortune. The garage full of high-end cars all strangely stopped running no matter what his mechanics did. That was when he had mechanics; he had to let them and all of his staff go, even his prized secretary. His houses and belongings were claimed in the bankruptcy, with surprisingly no insurance to buffer him from that. All the insurance companies seemed to collapse following the crash of the market. Banks were calling back their unsecured loans at record speeds, and he had a lot of outstanding loans. Past due on his quarterly taxes, the government had frozen his remaining assets. He was penniless.

He felt out of place in the designer shirt and slacks as he slid out of his new car - a pre-owned nondescript mid-sized sedan - and stood before the house. The house's exterior was in sad disrepair; filthy siding and wooden beams desperately in need of paint, curled like flower pedals toward the sun that bleached them dry and split. The windows were grimy and chunks of mortar were missing from around the sashes. It would take a good chunk of money to fix this place properly. But the two-story dwelling was not his concern. He only rented a two-room unit in the lower back part of the building. He slowly lumbered toward his new home with the key in hand.

* * * * * * * * * *

The man slammed his fists on either side of the keyboard in frustration. Nothing! Not one damn job! He was qualified for hundreds of high-paying positions, but no one would hire him. Somehow all his friends disappeared as fast as his money. None returned his calls. No business would consider his candidacy; they all told him he was "overqualified". Those were the ones who at least had the decency to respond to him at all. Most of the time, he never heard back from any of his applications. Even the headhunters stopped calling after a while.

He sighed and leaned back in the chair, ignoring its protesting creak. It was worn and wobbly, and the desk's wood veneer was chipped at the edges and peeling back from the particle board. Neither the furnishings nor the outdated - and extremely slow - computer before him were of any concern to him. These belonged to the local library, one of the few remaining open in the state. He wondered how many other people depended on similar access to the internet because they could not afford a home computer or internet access.

The thought didn't last long; he had to find a job fast. The cash he had on hand when his assets were frozen and property seized was quickly running out. He thought he was being frugal, but he just couldn't see how people could live on so little. He recently had to give up meat in his diet. Fresh fruits and vegetables were no longer an option two months ago. The prices at the supermarket continued to rise and sales tax jumped to cover the state deficit; he was feeling the pinch on both ends.

The women at the social services center had very little sympathy for his riches-to-rags story - VERY little. He was denied everything he thought his hard-earned money paid for: the food stamps, unemployment, pre-paid cell phones. They told him he had to get a job and suggested - of ALL things - the local 'Mart. The 'Mart! Here he was, a CEO of a multi-billion dollar company a little over a year ago and they want him to be a door greeter, a cashier, or worse - a stock clerk! That's what the poor brainless uneducated saps of society did, he thought to himself.

But the little money he had was running out fast, he'd have to swallow his pride and take a job where he could find one...

* * * * * * * * * *

The man scowled, jabbed the keys before him, and inquired, "Do you want fries with that?" It had taken another month before he started his job search in what he considered the dregs of the job market. The 'Mart wouldn't even consider his application. The only place that would hire an overqualified but flat-broke guy in his mid-fifties was a fast-food establishment in a very bad part of town. The location had been robbed three times; it was only his second day. It was remarkable how complicated the whole process was in taking an order, entering it correctly, remembering which key on which unit to press at the right time and getting it done in under 90-seconds.

The horn blared loudly at his window and he jumped slightly. He waved the "one more moment" gesture to the irritated driver waiting for his meal as he took the last of the order via the antediluvian headset that crackled non-stop in his ear, slurring every word and swallowing half of them. "Can you please repeat your order, slower this time?" An angry squawk was his answer, followed almost immediately by the long blaring horn outside the window.

"Thank you," he muttered into the headset and jabbed the last of the order into the system. Then he looked at the screen for the current order: one small soda, two medium fries, two deluxe burgers and a kids meal. He jammed a wax-coated paper cup into the beverage machine and punched the button above. With a semi-run to the fries bin, he discovered they were out of fries. The timers read that the next batch would not be ready for two more minutes. The man bit back a curse - the Manager already threatened to fire him for that - and ran over to the next counter to grab the pre-made burgers and assemble the kids meal. He reached into the bin and discovered the toys for boys were all gone. He grabbed one from the girl's collection; maybe the kid won't notice. He tossed the burgers into a bag and headed back to the window, slipping on the sticky puddle now at his station. Grabbing hold of the counter, the man glanced up to notice he selected the "large" button to fill the small cup; it overflowed the counter and covered the front of the machine as well as the floor.

Another angry horn sounded, echoed by the one outside the window. The man practically THREW the bag at the waiting customer. He snapped a lid on the sticky cup and passed that along as well, valiantly trying to ignore the look of disgust on the driver's face when he grabbed the the cup. "Hey! Moron!" the passenger called out, leaning over to glare at him. "Where's our fries!?!" Remembering, he spun around and tracked the sticky mess across the floor. He grabbed an almost-done batch of fries from the deep-frier and dumped them into the bin. He liberally poured the salt over the steaming mess and halfheartedly tossed the fries once with the scooper before shoveling it into the pre-sized cardboard sheaths. Tossing those in a bag, he approached the window only to be greeted with black looks from driver and passenger as well as the wailing of a disappointed child in the back seat. "This is a GIRL's toy," the driver snapped as he handed back the opened item. "We want a boy's toy."

"I'm sorry, sir, we're all out of those."

"Well, then, I want a refund!"

"I'm sorry, sir, but I can't -"

"Then get me the Manager, NOW!" he yelled leaning on the horn for emphasis. This set up a trio of other horns from the cars still waiting behind him.

The man scrambled to get the Manager. A look of horror followed by disgust was shot his way when the Manager saw his workstation. The Manager then smiled and leaned out the window to speak with the driver. "So sorry, sir, what is the problem? ... I see... That long? ... No, you are right, that is not how we do things here, sir... Yes, sir... I can refund your child's meal, sir..." He spun around and glared at the man as he keyed open the register and counted out the money. Then he handed it to the customer with a bright smile. "Here you are, sir. Again, I am sorry for any inconvenience. Please accept our apologies and have a nice day." When the Manager turned around, he eyed the man menacingly and snarled, "Clean up this damned mess and get your ass to my office in five minutes or you will never work another day ANYwhere in town. Got it?" Without waiting for a response, the Manager called out, "George! You're promoted to Cashier, get over here and take care of the next car, will you?"

* * * * * * * * * *

The man had been demoted to mopping, cleaning, filling the machines and other prep-work. They had made it very clear he was lucky to be washing wilted heads of lettuce and slicing tomatoes - extra thin. He realized with growing dread he was lucky to have a job at all. He had fired many an employee for less cause, many of them he had never met face-to-face. His new position finally broke through his pride and he found - at last - some sense of humility.

Days rolled by, becoming weeks, then months. In time he worked his way back to Cashier with more confidence and understanding of the system. He also began to see the customers in a whole new light. There were regulars that lived nearby and he would often see them on the sidewalks, in the supermarket, and elsewhere. Sometimes he would take his break out on their side of the counter, sharing a meal and conversation. It felt good.

His earnings were still meager and he realized fast-food wasn't healthy, even if they took pity on him and let him bring some leftovers home at the end of the night. So he started to shop from the old-food racks in the back of the supermarket. If you could stomach cutting off the moldy parts, it wasn't too bad. Some of his new friends introduced him to coupons. He was moved to tears one afternoon, when he realized how much a mere $5.00 savings meant to him.

One night, while bringing the garbage out to the dumpster, he saw a pair of homeless people rummaging through the bags, eating bits of burger that had someone's teethmarks and picking ketchup-stained napkins from the french fries before shoving them into their mouths with great joy. They looked up at his approach and he realized with anguish they were both under the age of 18, possibly runaways.

At home, lying on the slowly-deflating air-mattress under a couple of rough, thin blankets, the man realized he was actually very grateful for all that he currently had: a roof over his head, electricity to light his humble two-room unit, heat in the winter, running water for the shower, sink and toilet, a refrigerator and some income to help keep a meager stock of food.

For the first time in a very long time, he got to his knees and he prayed, tears rolling down his cheeks.

The first lesson.

* * * * * * * * * *

Months continued to roll by. The man was promoted to Assistant Manager, and he actually had some pride in his work. There was a lot of turnover at this particular fast-food place; the continuous string of robberies did not help. He seemed to be constantly training new recruits and they seemed to blunder much of the job. Remembering his first days, though, he patiently worked with them, giving them several chances to try again. He had to have even more patience for the customers. Many were rude, demanding, always in a hurry and very belittling toward him and his staff - those that weren't outright holding the Cashier up at gun-point. They would have gotten security cameras long ago, but with the robberies, they just barely met their bills; there was no extra for security.

He had even gotten the employees trained to put rejected or unsold food into separate trash bags. These they would set aside for the growing number of homeless that hungrily awaited the feast at the back door each night. If the health department discovered this, they may find a reason to shut down the place. So they had to trust that their "back door customers" would keep this secret. But having been hungry himself, the man could not waste food if he knew someone could use it.

* * * * * * * * * *

Late that fall, the hurricane came in. Rain fell in buckets as the winds howled, sending the sheets of water rattling against the windows. The man was working the counter, having sent the employees home before the height of the storm hit. The Manager did not want to close up completely, so the two of them were the only ones working that shift. The place was mostly empty.

Rotating red and blue lights outside the large-paned windows announced the arrival of a police car. The officer rushed in with a drenched uniform and dripping cap. Standing at the door, he shouted into the building, "Everyone needs to get out of here immediately and head to high grounds. We're evacuating the area!"

"What?" shouted from the manager from beside the sizzling grills.

"Mandatory evac! Now! The dikes are about to give way! You've got 15 minutes or less to reach high grounds!" With that, the officer raced back outside and leapt into his running car. The silence followed a moment as everyone mutely watched him leave, then leapt into action. The customers at the tables grabbed their food and drinks and bolted for the door. The man and Manager quickly shut off the grills, friers and gas. When the man was ready to close out the registers the Manager yelled, "No time, we've just got to chance it. I've locked the back door. Let's lock up the front and go!"

"I've got to get my stuff at home, first," the man declared as he hesitated mid-step. I live a block from here and its even lower ground..."

The Manager pulled on his jacket and handed the man his, "It's too late, we need to go now. C'mon, I'll drive."

Shaken, the man let himself be led out, automatically shutting off the lights on the way out.

* * * * * * * * * *

Three days later, they were allowed back into the area. The flood covered everything in stinking brown mud. At the restaurant, much of the equipment would need to be replaced. One of the glass doors was broken open and the registers were empty; one was missing completely. Of his two-room unit, everything was still under two inches of water. Bedding, blankets, clothing, towels - all muck covered.

The man wandered numbly outside to his car, sitting muck-glazed to the windows, and wept.

Then they arrived. Caravans of people came with food, toiletries, tents, blankets, water - even portable washers to help launder what could be saved. He found himself on his cot at the shelter wearing a clean set of clothes for the first time in days. The shower felt like the best shower he had ever taken. Who knew that a shower would feel so good. The clothes were donations and somewhat worn, but even the stain down the front of the shirt didn't seem to bother him as it would have... wow, that seemed a lifetime ago.

He spent his first days working with the staff and volunteers to clean up the restaurant. Then they started helping the neighbors - both businesses and residents up and down the block. As the week progressed, more and more volunteers arrived to help clear away the muck, mud and pools of water. Then the real work began. Walls needed to be stripped down, and rebuilt, much needed to be repaired or outright replaced, carpets were ripped up and what could be was scrubbed down. It was long, hard days.

Nights were spent at the shelter with many other people from his neighborhood. The man was glad he had befriended several of them before now. It made working beside them easier, and the nights' rest in the school auditorium less awkward. In a way, it was part block-party / part indoor camp-out with the neighbors, even if half of them snored like a grizzly bear and there were long lines at the restrooms and locker showers.

One evening, came a big treat - someone had found a usable deck of cards high on a shelf. The owner said they could have them. The cards were worn around the edges and otherwise the typical deck of cards from the dollar store. But the man held them for a long moment, so full of gratitude for this simple thing he didn't know what to say. Then he looked up at the neighbor who passed them to him and he was far more grateful for that woman and all who had come to help his neighborhood following the devastation. Tears ran down his face as he silently hugged her.

The second lesson.

* * * * * * * * * *

Years came and went. Despite the help that rushed in immediately following the storm, news crews and out-of-the-area volunteers soon disappeared. The neighborhood slowly struggled to its feet. It was still a dangerous, blighted part of town; the fast-food establishment was still robbed on a regular basis. Things took a long time to build and some people never came back, leaving rotting mud-caked homes behind as a further eyesore in the neighborhood.

No one knows how or where it started, but the disease struck this particular neighborhood hard and fast. The Manager was the first to fall ill at the restaurant, then the man, too, became very ill.

Having no health insurance, the man went to the nearby clinic - an hour and a half drive away. Fever burned his brow and he could not stop retching. If only the spots would stop dancing before his eyes; he needed them to drive home again. When he stumbled through the doors, he found a quarter of his neighborhood in the clinic's waiting room - men, women and children. All without insurance, all very sick; the single restroom was already clogged. He laughed out loud remembering how once he was so vocal against people who didn't have health care and depended on clinics like these. He didn't remember much beyond that.

He woke up two days later in a hospital bed; where that hospital was, he had no clue. The room was quarantined and contained three other beds in the room originally meant to hold two, all occupied. A young woman approached him wearing a fully encapsulated suit. She took his name and information, what he could croak out through parched lips, before identifying herself from the CDC. She started to tell him what was going on, but the ringing in his ears intensified and the room became hazy. His body ached horribly and burned with fever, he slid blissfully back into unconsciousness.

".... I think he's starting to come around. That's it. Open your eyes, if you can. Yes, I know it hurts. You've been very sick... Can you look over toward the light? I want to see your eyes... ..." The person was dressed in a bio-hazard suit; a bright flashlight was waving back and forth in front of his eyes. He wanted to tell them to stop. He wanted to tell them it hurt. That everything hurt. So much. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to move his eyes. His eyes... They rolled up into his head and his lids dropped automatically. Then his limbs started to tremble uncontrollably. In a few moments the seizure passed, but then another ache continued to grow, in his chest and radiating down his right arm.

"We're loosing him too. Just like all the others," came another voice. "We still don't know what it is!" The pain intensified; breathing became difficult, then it seemed to suddenly stop.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, something felt as though it detached. He felt himself floating, pain slipping past him like a bad memory. In his ears a monitor was clamoring, but that was not his concern now. He didn't own the monitor. It belonged to someone else...

In a dream-like way, he slowly opened his eyes. The people in the room were applying needles and paddles to some old withered guy on the bed. It looks like he's going to-- Good God! That was HIM!

"I can't be dead!" He looked around the room in a panic. The free-floating feeling continued unabated and the pain was completely gone. In fact, all physical sensation was completely gone. He panicked a moment more. Then recalled something. Something wasn't quite right. "Wasn't there supposed to be a bright light or something?" He looked around the room more carefully. "Oh, no! Where's the light? There's supposed to be a light! Loved ones to meet me and take me to Heaven? That kind of stuff. WHERE IS IT???"

In a flash, he recalled all of his life. Not just the recent years, but the long years when he had wealth and luxury far beyond what he could see having now. He recalled how he treated people, how cruel he had been. It seemed so very long ago, but that WAS him. Now he had come to life's end and he never once apologized. "DEAR GOD!" he cried out with an anguished soul. "I am so sorry! So very sorry for all that I did! All that I was! I was blessed with riches beyond measure and I did nothing to help those in need. Now I'm one of them and I realize my mistakes. PLEASE! Please! Don't let me die now!!!"

That was when he noticed the stranger, the very stranger whom he struck a deal with all those years ago.

"Am I dead? Is this the end? Please! I want to live some more. I really haven't finished all that I planned to do. I want to help the neighborhood come back. I want to help all those employees that depend on us. Please... please..." The man peeled his eyes away from the stranger and cast his eyes heavenward, "Oh, dear God, PLEASE help me. I need You."

The third lesson.

The stranger smiled warmly at him and seemed very pleased. "Having learned the lessons you have passed through. You are now ready to receive the greatest treasure in this world."

The man paused, thinking, using every scrap of his intelligence, reviewing all that had happened since their last meeting. Tears welled up in his eyes. "What is it? Life?"

The stranger smiled more broadly, "Close. That is a great treasure, but there is one greater and it is offered to all people." He lightly touched the man in the chest and some unknown tightness, some unrecognized grief, a burden beyond words was lifted from his inner being. "In this world, it is known as Forgiveness. But..." the stranger held up a finger before the man's eyes, "there is one more thing you must do to earn it completely."

"What?" the man whispered in frightened hesitation.

"You must share it with all you meet. Forgive them, and you will retain your Forgiveness too."

A heartbeat later, the man's body drew a ragged breath. He was once more among the living, and his body was rapidly stabilizing.

* * * * * * * * * *

Two weeks later, he was released from the hospital. He had a whopper of a hospital bill to face - three times what it would have cost the insurance company, if he had health insurance. But that was a worry for another day.

The CDC was able to use his blood samples to isolate the virus and produce an anti-viral serum. Of course, the rich who funded the production would get the first doses, then those with insurance would receive theirs, and lastly the poor with whom he worked and lived.

The neighborhood would be emptier, many had lost the battle against this foe. But some remained; some returned. There was a call to rebuild, and the man's heart sang to a new rhythm. He carried within the greatest treasure in the world. The rest could be dealt with in time.

* * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * *

- ESA