| Ash Wednesday -Joe's Story |
| Ash Wednesday -Joe's Story |
My name is Joe Beckman and I have been a parishioner here for the last 2 years. I grew up in a city called West St. Paul. The ironic thing about the name West St. Paul is that it’s not actually WEST of St. Paul. Its south and if anything it’s East. But that is where I grew up in a very ordinary house with an ordinary family. I went to some pretty ordinary schools. And it was during my ordinary 4-year college where I met my ordinary wife. (I mean extraordinary…sorry hunny) 6 years later we got married and about 10 months ago we celebrated the birth of our baby daughter, Sophia. We now live our rather ordinary life, in Richfield.
But this story in not about me, it’s about Donna. Donna is a woman that many of you may have seen before. If you have ever taken the 46th Ave. exit off 35W to get here at St. Joan’s you probably have noticed several people asking for money on the corner of the road. That is where I met Donna. A small woman with short hair and olive complexion, but despite her size, I’ll never forget how strong her voice was when she said “God Bless you” the first time I rolled down my window and handed her money.
My wife and I gave Donna money for several weeks, but after hearing the stories from speakers at church and sermons about social justice I felt like I needed to do more. So after church one day I walked up to her and asked her if I could buy her lunch. A smile shot across Donna’s face and she gladly accepted. This would continue over the next few months and slowly I started to get to know Donna and another man named Richard and they were so very grateful for the food and the company. They called me their “angel.” I accepted that nickname almost as eagerly as they accepted their food.
And then one day it stopped. I walked up after mass and Richard was the only one there and I could tell from the look in his face that something was wrong. He told me that Donna had suffered a stroke and that she was too weak to walk the block and a half from her residence.
I knew that my job of helping Donna carry her burden was not done and I told myself that I had to do more. I brought food for her dogs, brought over DVD’s to help pass time, and just simply chatted with her to help lift her spirits as she underwent many treatments and surgeries in hopes of recovering. Simply talking, as difficult as it was for her, was one of the things she liked best. Like many stroke victims her speech was slowed and mumbled but that didn’t stop her from telling story after story.
What I found out as I listened was that Donna was dealt a much different hand in life than I was, and although she had made some bad choices along the way, I am sure Donna would have flourished if her childhood would have afforded her a few more opportunities. Instead it was a childhood and a life of many burdens.
Like Abba had to in his story with the leper, I knew that I had to eventually leave Donna. Some of her old acquaintances started hanging around more, and I wasn’t feeling 100% safe when I was over there. But how do you tell someone that you have to say goodbye when you know in your heart that you’re the one positive thing they have going for them. I was full of guilt. Now the burden was on me, and who was going to carry it?
Ironically that person was Donna. I remember sitting in this parking lot before 5:00 mass and calling her to check on how her surgery went but also calling one last time before I exited out of her life. Something struck me about the way she answered. Her speech was back to normal. She explained to me that something happened during the surgery and when she came out of it she was talking like her old self. She was happy to tell me that her sister was bringing her home to live with her in Coon Rapids and that her spirits were improving greatly. She thanked me for everything that I had done for her and told me that it was time for me to move on; to start focusing on my life and the soon to be born baby. I said goodbye and that’s been the last time I have spoken to her.
And no, since that story there has not been any unexpected reward. Unlike Abba, I have not walked into a field of reeds; I haven’t hit the jackpot, won a sweepstakes, or had a brand new 2008 car appear in my driveway. But that’s okay…it’s because of Donna, and this is the honest truth, I realize that my entire life, ordinary as it may be, is one giant field of reeds. Reeds that are abundant like my family and friends. Reeds that are extraordinary like my wife and baby, and reeds that embrace…like a church that accepts people no matter who they are or wherever they are at on their journey. Reeds farther than my eyes can see, reeds that will keep growing from here until my last days. That’s a pretty rich life.
Thanks Donna for helping me to see it.
That is my story…through it I have learned that by helping carry someone’s burdens the true reward is what the carrier had all along.
Ash Wednesday Stories |