Benefit Car Wash - Saturday July 17, 2010

One of our Golo friends needs a little help. Unfortunately, her health has declined considerably, and she is now unable to work. Her family is doing the best they can, but it is often very hard to manage caring for a loved one who’s sick, and work enough hours to make ends meet. In order to offer the family a bit of relief, we have decided to dedicate this upcoming weekend’s car wash to her.

As always, our car wash will take place in the parking lot of Eastgate Shell, at 4043 Wake Forest Rd in north Raleigh. We will meet between the hours of 9 and 12 on Saturday, July 17. If you would like to help us, please just show up; or, if your car only needs a little TLC, we will be happy to wash it for you for a small donation. I know it’s a bit hot for coffee right now, but if you do enjoy a good cup in the morning, Eastgate Shell will provide free coffee for all who come. In contrast, my daughter will also be on premises, selling cold lemonade (nothing cuter than a little five-year-old selling lemonade at a homemade stand.)

So, please come down and see us this Saturday, and help us spread the word through your local social networks, your friends, co-workers and family members. We hand-wash all the cars and, if I may say so myself, we do a fine job for only a love donation. Why not take advantage of this great opportunity to give your car a bath and to help a friend in need at the same time?

I look forward to seeing many of you!

Weekend Delights

The past weekend has been an interesting and inspiring one to say the least. The magic started on Friday evening, when I went with my son to an art show in Wake Forest where my friend Pam’s paintings are displayed.

It was a lovely evening – we enjoyed browsing around the gallery, and were amazed by some of the talent; after a while, we just sat outside, drinking in the warm air and engaging in a fun conversation. When our friends left, my son and I took a walk on White Street, and were delighted to listen to a band playing outdoors as we were strolling along.

Shortly after, we went back to our car and headed back to Raleigh. As I drove, I could feel my car responding differently, and I made a mental note to bring it in to get checked on Monday; but, when I got into Raleigh – thankfully not too far from home – I began to hear a strange sound, so I turned off the radio and opened the window to see if what we heard was coming from my car or from a different one riding nearby. It was indeed mine, and all it took was for my son to slightly peek his head out before he said: “Uh oh, Mom, you have a flat tire.”

It wasn’t just flat…the poor thing had miserably blown, and the rim was painfully riding over it. I slowed down, and got into my left lane, trying my best to get out of Capital Boulevard before things got worse. I drove a little longer, and pulled into a nearby neighborhood; once I was sure we were away from heavy traffic, I stopped the car and we got out to inspect the damage. There was no way I could continue driving, so I got my cell phone and tried to call home. No signal! I walked little ways down the street, hoping to get a sign of life, and all I got was a big, fat nothing. I had two choices – Michael and I could walk home, since we weren’t too far and it was a pleasant evening, or we could knock on someone’s door, which, being ten-o-clock at night was definitely not my first choice. Right at that moment, I saw something moving, and to my relief, I saw a man coming out of his house to walk the dog. I asked him if I could possibly use his phone, and explained the situation. He handed me the phone, and even offered to change my tire; I deeply appreciated his offer, but gently declined, not wanting to put him out even more than I already had. I got a hold of my husband, and within ten minutes he was there. The tire was too damaged to fix in the dark, so we decided to leave the car there and go back for it the next day.

When I got in the car, my little daughter was waiting in the backseat; she smiled and handed me a little homemade gift she hurriedly prepared before leaving the house to cheer me up. Suddenly, the beauty of it all washed over me unexpectedly. I had a wonderful evening, and because of a small inconvenience I was able to top it off with kindness from a perfect stranger, and awareness that, no matter what, someone is there for me to call upon in a time of need. And all along, even while we were waiting for my husband to arrive, Michael and I enjoyed our time – we pulled down the windows and quietly talked. It wasn’t cold, it wasn’t raining, and we were happy to have a little extra time to chat. Strangely, what could have been an unwelcome situation turned into an inspiring and fun adventure.

If that wasn’t enough, when we got home we received a phone call from an old army buddy my husband met while serving in Italy. He was coming through Raleigh on business, and wondered if he could come by to see us. He arrived Saturday morning, and spent the day at my husband’s shop with him; in the evening, we sat on the deck, grilled steaks, and reminisced about those wonderful days of a summer long ago, when we all met.

What a magical weekend it was, and how unexpected! That’s how life works sometimes…a delicious surprise, one day at a time. And occasionally it might all even start with a tire blow-out.



Side note: I will not be online much this week, as I am trying to help my editor prepare the novel for digital upload, so there won’t be any posts published for a few days. “See” you all when I get back!

The Bright Red Berries

“Expect your every need to be met. Expect the answer to every problem and expect abundance on every level.” ~ Eileen Caddy


The past few days have been unusual ones for Raleigh NC – an uncharacteristic snow storm for the area, coupled with extremely low temperatures, has turned this southern city into a winter wonderland.

When I went out for a walk with my daughter, yesterday, I thought the scenery was quite striking – the Carolina blue sky, crowned by a glorious sun, intensified the pristine beauty of the soft blanket wrapped tight over homes and yards.

On my way back home I saw one of my neighbors come out holding a bowl of birdseed; she was dressed in black pants and a soft green sweater, the color of which stood out against the ethereal white of the snow like an emerald laid over a rich cloth in the window of a jewelry store. I thought it was very sweet of her to think of the birds, since they were probably struggling to find a meal under the layer of snow and ice, and I reminded myself about some leftovers in the fridge I could bring back for some of the wild animals living in the woods behind my house.

I got home and stood in front of my kitchen sink to fill the teakettle with water, and my attention was stolen by something I rarely notice outside the window - a Robin was sitting on one of the branches of the huge bush beside my deck, happily feasting on some of the berries. Nothing unusual about that, but what really caught my attention was the bright color of the berries, a sanguine red which stood out against the green of the leaves and the white of the snow – unless a bird was blind, those berries could not be missed.

The episode got the wheels in my head spinning...the berries were in plain sight, and elevated from the ground where they could not be hidden by the fallen snow; they were bright and inviting, grouped in grape-like bunches; it was almost as if they were bearing a sign saying: ‘Free groceries.’ I suddenly remembered that during my walk I had seen several other bushes of the same type, all laden with red berries.

The birds didn’t fret about the storm, nor did they worry about dinner – they only concerned themselves with being, leaving all worries to the wind and knowing on a deeper level that they would be sustained. And they were; in plain red berries.

Universe knows no limitations and no lack of abundance – when something is needed, it is promptly and amply provided without delays. We are the ones who cause our own limitations, and become so absorbed by our dramas that we fail to see the bounty all around us. Birds often sing before dawn even breaks, and just because it is still dark around them, they don’t doubt for a minute that the sun will rise; to the contrary, they sing in gratitude before the first ray of light shows itself in the east.

By focusing on what doesn’t work, we easily overlook whatever has been provided to fill our need, even if it sits right in front of our eyes. As Sarah Ban Breathnach said, “Both abundance and lack exist simultaneously in our lives, as parallel realities. It is always our conscious choice which secret garden we will tend…when we choose not to focus on what is missing from our lives, but are grateful for the abundance that’s present – love, health, family, friends, work, the joys of nature and the small pursuits which bring us pleasure – the wasteland of illusion falls away and we experience Heaven on earth.”

Anicet's Story

I’d like to share a story which I hope will inspire you as much as it inspired me.
It is a story of courage, determination and, most of all, faith. It is the story of a man named Anicet, who came to America to follow a dream.

His family and friends in Africa had helped him gather enough money for the trip and a short stay, but with poor language skills and no references he was having a hard time securing a job. His dream was to become a Christian minister, so he was hoping to find a job in a church, and was willing to take on even the most menial job.

We agreed to meet, simply to have a meditation together and talk further. We scheduled to meet at 9:00 pm two days later.

The evening we were supposed to meet, he called me around about 8pm and asked for directions to my house from a nearby drugstore. I only live about five minutes away from the drugstore, so I expected him to show up soon. Forty-five minutes went by. Finally, I went outside on the porch to see if I could see him driving through, thinking he had probably missed the house; I was only outside for a couple of minutes before my hands were frozen stiff; it was a very cold night in January, one of those very unusual times when Father Winter notices North Carolina is on the map. I was ready to go back inside, when in the distance I spotted a little black man, walking resolutely, and realized it was him. Anicet walked in, took his hat and jacket off, and politely asked for a glass of water. When I asked him why he hadn’t parked in front of my house, he simply replied that he didn’t have a car and had walked all the way from Cary.

I was stunned! North Raleigh is a good twenty to thirty minutes drive from Cary. He explained that he had left his house that afternoon, and that he wasn’t going to miss the meeting just because he didn’t have a car. We talked that night, and then met again on a few more occasions. The last time I saw him he said that he had understood what God had wanted him to understand - his mission, he said, was to find a way to preach about the unity of all religions.

After that, I didn’t hear from him for about a year. He called me again this past summer, just to update me on his progress.

He did, finally, find a job in a church in Cary, and the gentleman who hired him also helped him enroll in several courses, including one to improve his language skills and a few theological ones. He is very happy now, and feels that he is working toward the vision that God sent him.

What truly touched me about his story are the strength of his faith and the fire of determination inside of him, as he overcame tangible obstacles to follow his dreams, and fought against all odds to achieve what he believed in.

Sometimes, when I don’t feel motivated, all I have to do is think about this little great man, about his courage and faith, and suddenly I feel like I can get a lot more accomplished in my day.

The Angel Who Left Before Christmas

Lucia Salanti Venturi – an honorary consul with the General Italian consulate in Philadelphia – was laid to rest yesterday. Her death came as a shock to her friends and family, when she passed away at Duke Hospital on Sunday, after having fallen ill just a few days before.

Her funeral mass was held on Wednesday at Our Lady of Lourdes Catholic Church in Raleigh, and it was a memorable event. There is something to be said about the beauty and depth of a Catholic service, even when the time comes to say goodbye to a lovely lady who touched the lives of so many people.

I sat in one of the back pews with my daughter, and had to swallow tears a few times. Here was a wife, mother, grandmother, sister and friend who had made Christmas plans with her family, had looked forward to seeing her grandchildren after Santa’s visit, and had probably planned to cook for an army the way Italian women always do; nothing had prepared her, or her family, for this untimely departure, and yet before anyone could even wrap their minds around the thought, she was gone.

When I saw her two weeks ago, I gave her a small Poinsettia for Christmas, and I remember she didn’t even want to accept it, and told me I shouldn’t have gone through the trouble; now, I am glad she accepted it, for it was the last chance I had to do something nice for her, even if at the time I had no way of knowing her journey was coming close to its end.

Most of us make long-term plans, and often postpone things we would enjoy until the time is right, but that time might never come – this moment might be our greatest asset, and the last chance we have to kiss our children, to tell someone we love them, to take a small vacation somewhere, or to smile to a complete stranger.

I know it has been discussed many times before, but I can’t stress enough just how important it is to forgive and forget, to live and be happy, to reach out to others and be happy for them, regardless of circumstances. So many things seem important when we weigh them on a scale of pride and ego, but in reality they have no substance.

During the mass, I couldn’t help noticing that many of the pews were empty on two sides of the massive church. It wasn’t because there weren’t enough people who had come to pay their last respects, but because during painful moments humans tend to be drawn to one another, and they instinctively pull together. This innate closeness is something we crave any time we face sadness and pain; anyone can probably think back about personal or public tragedies, when people who had never even met before hugged and held one another, finally able to overcome that unnecessary distance we normally, somehow, set between ourselves and others.

We shouldn’t have to only come together during times of sorrow. We have the ability to reach out and reconnect on any given day, if we can just get past unimportant issues. Today is what we have; no sense in wasting it, waiting for a tomorrow which might never come.

The other face of the Homeless.

When walking down the paths of Moore Square in downtown Raleigh, North Carolina, one has the feeling of having reached the heart of the city.
The ancient oaks and poplar trees set a marked contrast to the rest of the world vibrating all around, and embrace each other as to create a net of protection over this tiny island of peace, from the hustle and bustle of the nearby City Market.
Moore Square is the home of Christine and some of her homeless friends.
I met Christine a few months ago, when I strolled downtown looking for a group of homeless to bring a box of groceries to. The first time I saw her, she was sitting on the edge of a small garden bed with a few others, and eyed me suspiciously when I walked right up to her and put the box down near her feet. I asked her if she knew anyone who could use the things I brought, and explained that the homeless guy I had bought those items for was nowhere to be found that morning. Christine told me that she was going to take care of distributing the groceries I brought, so I thanked her and left. As I walked off, I turned around to look, and saw that she had summoned several people I had not seen just a moment before, who were now all gathered around the cardboard box. Watching them go through the few treats I brought was like watching my children on Christmas morning: they were smiling and talking excitedly, and held fruit cups and packs of peanuts with the same reverence and enthusiasm that my kids display when opening an expensive new video game.
Since then, I have gone back several times to bring groceries and other small items. With each visit, their suspicion has thawed a little, and has now been completely replaced by gratefulness and excitement.
When I went to bring a box, two days ago, I saw that Christine’s backpack was badly torn, and her few belongings were falling out of it. I thought of the many backpacks in my storage room that my kids no longer use, and told Christine that I would bring them to her the next day. Yesterday morning, I went back with my younger son, my daughter, my friend Connie and her two children. Christine was in her usual spot sitting beside a few other homeless people, and greeted us with a big smile as we approached her “home”. I laid the bags near her other stuff, and we all talked for a while. While we sat, a small man, attired in a blue dress shirt and khaki pants walked up to my son, and handed him a small handful of change. Michael immediately refused, and tried to give the coins back, but the little man was adamant about him keeping them: he was touched by Michael’s compassion and good heart, and wanted to give something back.
Before we left, I told Christine that I would be back soon with more things; she just smiled and said: “You don’t have to bring anything. If you are in the area, just come by and talk to us for a while”.
Needless to say, we all left Moore Square with a lot more than we walked there with, and realized that there is another face to the homeless, a very human, warm and caring one. Beyond the rough edges, they are normal people, who enjoy human contact and love one another. Life circumstances have forced them to shed their ego and live humbly, but have not robbed them of human dignity and inner beauty. Their light shines from within and touches the heart of anyone who will take a moment to know them beyond their appearance. I don’t know if my son will ever again meet the little man who gave him the coins, but he will forever remember how, one day, an angel came up to him and gave him a gift from the heart, mindless of the fact that those coins could have been his next meal.