The Stuff of Stars & Change & Miracles

Different cultures. Different languages.  And the potential for miracles. 

Music by Scott Holmes - A Wee Tipple 
Non Copyright Music 

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:08

It was a new place and a new group of people. The topic was a difficult one, and she had been asked to lead this new group of unruly ones. There was no rapport built, no other shared experience outside of sitting in a chair, alongside other defiant ones, and having to listen to the aging white woman in front of them. Some put forth some effort. They seemed to understand just a little of the challenge the white woman was facing. Some didn't seem to care too much about what was going on at all, just a bit taken back by the direct contrast of color and age, gender and culture. How could someone who was as white as a cracker, whose lingo didn't sound like the street, who certainly looked like she would be more comfortable being greeted by a handshake than by dapping it up? What the hell was she doing here? And from what spaceship had she stepped off? And then there was one who was just completely disengaged. This was a complete waste of his precious time. This woman be trippin', thinking she had anything of value to bring. She was from a whole other planet. The session went okay. At least the old woman would be giving a choice in candy or snacks at the end. At least she had known to do that. The required participation was completed, and the somewhat halting, painful discussion came to an end. Snacks had been chosen, and there was a sigh of relief that seemed to float through the room. Dear God, help us all. Glad that's over. Unbeknownst to those around her, who were now milling around the room, glad to be free. The woman, who was now packing up her materials, also continued reading the room, looking for an opening she was hoping would be there. She didn't know what specifically she was looking for. She just knew she would know when she saw it. And there it was, the most disengaged one, talking trash, to another who was trying to play ping pong. She looked up, her face matter of fact, and with a twinkle in her eye, asked, You play ping pong? Her question, her interaction was unexpected, and the disengaged one, as he turned his face, made direct eye contact and studied her. Slowly the recognition of the challenge in front of him dawned on his face. He asked quickly and with all seriousness, You want to lose? The woman allowed a slight smile to cross her face and returned the question. Do you want to lose? The disengaged one was no longer disengaged. He immediately walked towards the ping pong table with such fervor and determination, ready to prove himself. The entire energy of the room had changed and everyone noticed. He took the paddle in his hand and said, All right, let's go. I'm gonna smash you, and meant every word he said. The woman chuckled and walked towards the ping pong table, took up her own paddle, and then, to everyone's great surprise, kicked off her shoes, now standing barefoot, ready to go, when suddenly the one in charge shouts from the other side of the room, Hey, miss, we don't have time for a ping pong match. We need to leave. And the determined punk across the table saw his opportunity and sent an unexpected serve across the net. The woman, caught off guard, quickly recovered and sent it back, thus beginning a volley that ended in defeat for the disengaged one, while the woman lifted up both arms and heralded her victory loudly across the room, causing surprise and shock to cross the face of everyone, and laughter filled the room. After a bit more trash talking, with everyone now joining in, the woman left, reminding them when she'd be back. Two days later she returned, immediately setting up the next round of a difficult topic. But this time the disengaged one greeted her, coming up close and saying hi. He was no longer disengaged. He stayed in proximity to the woman as she moved through the room, making her preparations. When she asked for his help, he quickly responded. And then when she asked where she could get a drink of water, he saw his opportunity and casually directed her to the water cooler, telling her to draw her water from the left. The woman quickly realized the left would release into her cup not the cold water, but the hot. She looked at him with a grin and asked, You think I don't know my red from my blue and what they mean? He laughed, a smile fully encompassing his entire face, and continued his attempts to misdirect her at every opportunity he could find, enjoying her laughter and smart remarks in response. His energy had changed, and the woman stopped dead in her tracks, her attention caught by what she saw in the one in front of her, recognizing what she so often recognized among the unruly ones. The stuff that gold was made of, the stuff of stars and change and potential and miracles. He was something, he could be something. He just needed being believed in, life made a little easier, difficult choices supported and encouraged. He just needed a chance. And there, in the middle of a room, while the world went by, they stood facing each other, the aging white woman from the country and the unruling young one from the streets. While she told him what she saw in him, what he could become, and the challenges in front of him should he decide to try, and that if he should try, he would need help, and help was available all around him. He stood still, his face softened, taking in not only her words, but the belief in him behind her words, and in her eyes, and considered. Was it possible? And when she left, the woman wept, knowing she had stumbled across another special someone who needed meaning and mission and purpose, who could actually bring change to the world if real change was brought to him first. And the woman prayed, hoping for help that would even the odds stacked against this one, because he was made of the stuff that gold was made of, the stuff of stars and change and potential and miracles.