I used to be unhappy because my attention was focused on the things that I didn’t have. Focusing my attention on the wrong things caused me to lose sight of blessings that I already had. My state of want was perpetual. Often, things I desired failed to meet my expectations which fed my overwhelming sense of want. Hustling and bustling, I foolishly believed that my station in life was advanced by the acquisition of material things. Sadly, my self-worth was based on the quality and quantity of material possessions, not the depth of my character.
One day, while waiting at a traffic light in my fancy, new esteem-machine (car), I noticed a man crossing the intersection. His face, although somewhat featureless, was vaguely familiar to me. After making it to the sidewalk, he turned and pointed at me. Suddenly,
the origins of his familiarity became clear.
The look on my face was one of surprise when I realized who he was. Despite his disheveled appearance, it was clear that the man was an old friend. Any doubt about his identity was laid to rest when he shouted “what’s up lil’ man” across the busy intersection. It was the first time in years anyone called to me that nickname. After gesturing for him to wait, I turned around to pick him up.
The last time I saw my old friend, I could barely grow facial hair, let alone drive. My old friend entered the car accompanied by the distinct odor of someone who had not bathed for quite some time. I’m sure that my desperate attempt to seem oblivious to his offensive smell was transparent.
The funny thing is, upon noticing my reaction to his smell, my friend tried putting me at ease by remarking “you ain’t lookin’ too bad yourself, lil’ man”. His comment prompted window fogging laughter, and soon we found ourselves transported to days gone by.
As we reminisced about old times, without my noticing, the malodorous beginning of the day’s encounter became imperceptible to me. My friend’s disordered appearance vanished from my eyes. What remained visible to me was a dear friend for whom things had somehow gone wrong.
The playful spirit of the boy that I remembered from childhood was alive in the man with whom I spent that remarkable day. However, my heart was heavy sensing the burden that life had apparently become for him. Everything in me longed to know his story of struggle and how I might serve to improve my lost friend’s lot in life.
As if reading my mind, my friend began talking about the night that his life changed irreparably. Hearing of the incident reminded me of the many times that I saw him protect other kids from schoolyard bullies. Ten years in state prison for brutally assaulting a man
who repeatedly abused his sister was the eventual cost of his steadfast protection of the underdog.
Before the day ended, I asked my old friend if he needed help. I offered money, and he refused. He told me there was no need for money where he was going. He then commented that I needed the money much more than he. At the time, I had no idea what he was talking about. I then asked if he needed a place to clean up and crash for the night. Again, he refused my offer saying that “prison purged him of the need for walls to confine”.
Before parting ways, I asked him to reconsider my offer for a place to crash. He responded with “thank you, but I prefer sleeping under the stars”. At his request, I dropped him off at the corner where we met, and I never saw him again.
A few days after the unexpected encounter, I ran into a classmate who informed me of my friend’s passing. I later found out, what my friend didn’t talk about during our fateful day together was a sexual assault that he suffered while in prison. The assault was a violation that ultimately ended his life. The incident resulted in his untimely death from AIDS. I was bereaved to discover that in his time of need, no one was there to stand up for the brave soul who often protected others.
Many years later, I realized what my friend meant when he said that I needed money more than he did. In the end, freedom was more important to him than money, clothes, or cars. All the things I invested precious time and energy acquiring meant nothing to him. Other than life itself, the star filled sky was most precious to him in the end.
The things that gave my friend’s life meaning were far more valuable than anything I could ever own. I knew that he was sent to change my life by teaching me that lesson. He also taught me that spiritual fulfillment cannot be attained with trinkets of gold or silver. The lessons that the encounter with my friend taught me are more valuable than all the riches in the world.
My fearless friend helped me understand that I could have everything my heart desired and still have nothing. Despite his filthy clothes and empty pockets, he had everything that mattered to him in the end. Even now, many years since our encounter, I am humbled by my friend’s dignity and reverence for life. I’m embarrassed by my arrogance, thinking that a little money and some clean clothes would have made a meaningful difference in his life.
In all the years since the (not so) chance encounter with my friend, the unrefined eloquence of his words remains in my consciousness. Although the physical-man has passed, his spirit is alive in each person to whom I impart the lessons that he taught me.
Often, when standing beneath the night sky, my thoughts are of him. The man and his lessons will live in my memory until I cease to be. Because of him, I understand that when my final rest is near, my thoughts won’t be of cars, homes or money. All that will matter in my final moments of life are the people that I love and those who love me in return. In fact, love is really all that matters, period. I hope not to be remembered for accumulating great wealth. If I am remembered for giving and receiving love, my life will have been meaningful.
If only for a day, it was a privilege to encounter my childhood friend. In a single prophetic moment, my life changed thanks to an unlikely teacher. I honor my friend’s memory by being thankful for life and teaching others the importance of doing so. I’m grateful to have inherited from him the thoughtfulness with which he lived. His gifts of compassion, empathy and humility will remain with me until we meet again. His ever-guiding presence in my life is a gift more precious than gold. I pray that his spirit is at peace.
-By Scott Hinds Lambeth
(Excerpt from the book The Guide to Being Well)
I hate waking up at 4 am and going out in subzero temperatures to do my daily workout; it sucks every time. So why do I do it? The lofty answer is that my life is the better for making the sacrifice, but that’s not the only reason I do it. The shallow truth of the matter is… I like being 48 years old with six pack abs and a ripped chest more than I hate waking up at 4 am and going out in subzero temperatures to do my daily workout. The moral of the story is that you can be in great shape at any age if you’re willing to make the sacrifice… There is no reward without sacrifice!
The Guide to Being Well - Blog 