Wednesday's Post: "Enjoy the Peace Garden by staying on the path."

Yesterday at 3:12 PM I read the last word of the book, Three Cups of Tea by Greg Mortenson. www.threecupsoftea.com I had been sitting in the tranquil, tree shaded sanctuary of the Peace Garden, a remarkable sculptured landscape garden area here in Minneapolis. Bentley and I had taken this part of my last days of vacation to visit and, at least I had planned to, work on my computer towards writing for my new book. I had carefully packed everything in my backpack for the outing...except my computer. Yes, another senior moment. So not to lose the benefit of this glorious day, I decided to finish reading this book about a remarkable man, Greg Mortenson, an American and avid mountaineer who, through a failed and near fatal attempt to climb K2 in Afghanistan was "brought down from the mountain" by a Sherpa, and whose life was then changed forever. The subtitle of the book is, One Man's Mission to Promote Peace...One School at a Time.

As I closed the book, finished, I sat there silent. A ray of sunshine spilled through a tear in the clouds, while at the same time a few cool drops of rain fell through the surrounding umbrella of leaves, one errant drop falling on my face. I was disarmed by the impact of its message: a man given a vision to help the most disadvantaged children in Pakistan and Afghanistan who yearned to be educated and could only manage the merest tools, facilities and sparse conditions. Convicted, he pursued the goal of building real schools against all odds; people and places ignored by society,remote, primitive, unbelievable natural obstacles, seemingly insurmountable cultural differences, threats, kidnapping, little to no finances, no experiences and while trying to start and maintain a healthy family life on left behind on the other side of the world. He attacked his calling with vision and commitment. Faced political and religious greed, power struggles and ignorance. He experienced moments of minute success, followed by devastating failure. Navigated through the terror of the Taliban's presence, persisted in Afghanistan the day of and following 9/11, dealt with the travesty of our nation's promise and subsequent reneging to rebuild a ravaged that wounded country... and still, through it all the candle flickering in the eyes of the individual boys and girls whose lives he touched and for whom he jarred open to the door of hope is was what kept him going. I highlighted only one passage towards to end of the book, where Greg speaks to our political leaders in Washington DC about his work as a response to dealing with the terror and terrorists we have inherited as a result of the global situation we now face as human beings: "I don't do what I'm doing to fight terror," Mortenson said, measuring his words, trying not to get himself kicked out of the US Capitol. "I do it because I care about kids. Fighting terror is maybe seventh or eighth on my list of priorities. But working over there, I've learned a few things. I've learned that terror doesn't happen because some group of people somewhere like Pakistan or Afghanistan simply decide to hate us. It happens because children aren't being offered a bright enough future that they have a reason to choose life over death."

So, how does this relate to my book, my story? Once when meeting with Jim a while back I was moaning and groaning over the recent rejection from some of my clients for new business. I was complaining about how unappreciated I felt, why they didn't see the value I could offer and not understanding why I couldn't seem to gain any traction. He listened patiently, then asked, "Brian, do you feel like God is working in your life?" I answered, "Yes." He added, "Do you feel like you are a blessed man?" I answered, "Yes." He paused, nodded, then asked, "So tell me...how does a blessed man behave." I was disarmed.

Mortenson could have moaned and groaned and complained about his situation and seeming inability to get those people, our people, ALL people to understand and support his cause. He could have taken the path that he had done all he could...call it a day...and go home to his family. He didn't. He stayed on the path, the one he knew was the only one he must follow.

I could have taken the path that would have led me to a new career. Gotten a job with a consistent paycheck and operated with much less pressure. I didn't. I could have gone through this passage of life with Valerie, tossed in the towel, not written a word, chalked it up to another failed life attempt and shut myself off from any other chances for a loving relationship. I haven't. I won't.

As Bentley and I walked back to the car after our three-hour visit, I noticed a tiny white sign on a metal post stuck in the dirt and tucked behind a burst of purple day lilies. It reads: "Enjoy the Peace Garden by staying on the path."

Write on.