Back at the Ranch

There are certain creatures in the animal kingdom that convey not only messages but identities. When you picture a lion you are immediately filled with a sense of dignity and majesty, there is an aura of pride, no pun intended, that you associate with a lion. When you witness an eagle in flight soaring high above the earth, peering down in all its effortless elegance, you mind escapes to places only the image of an eagle can take you -- the lofty heights of freedom and superiority, far away from the ground you find yourself returning to. We begin to associate certain activities with animal's characteristics, such as referring to an uncooperative person as a "jackass". Whether positive or negative, there are reflections of the animal kingdom in our every day activity.

The other day I was a vulture, and it was one of the lower moments of my life... at first.
Let me preface this by saying that the Ranch has an amazing opportunity to team up with antique dealers and acquire items from estate sales and repossessions, etc. This opportunity has allowed us to gather many valuables free of charge that we can sell at our thrift store on campus and turn the proceeds into immediate profit -- having no overhead. This is an amazing blessing to the Ranch, and I am grateful that we have been afforded the opportunity. That having been said, personally, that day I did not feel such a blessing.

Earlier in the week an elderly woman had passed, and the majority of her possessions were somehow uncovered by her will, which then allowed the antique dealers to come in and swarm about her property. Like Hyenas on a new kill these ladies were hauling beautiful end tables and exotic lamps out of the garage door past the deceased's expensive car -- all while we stood by, waiting, circling overhead so to speak. Once they had their fill, we were allotted a specific amount of time to peruse through the house and gather any items we might be able to use. Naturally, pressed for time as we were, we rushed through the house picking and choosing through the leftovers; rummaging through a lifetime of belongings and taking only a few seconds to proclaim their worth. About thirty minutes into the process, after using the woman's own screwdriver to take things off of her wall, feelings of guilt and insensitivity plagued me.

On the floor of the room were her memoirs, the collection of her life. There you could find her daily journal, awards and accomplishments -- the things which truly mattered to her. Though I couldn't bring myself to look through her journal, I felt compelled to stop and find out just exactly who this lady was; who spent her entire life to accumulate all of this, and now complete strangers are casually, if not frantically, gathering these "knick knacks" to sell for a couple of bucks in a garage sell. A graduate of Harvard, she was a very successful International Businesswoman who had worked across the U.S., from Los Angeles to Wall Street, as well as several corporations in South America. Her accolades went on and on, along with her belongings. I spent a while sitting there, soaking it all in, until a neighbor poked her head through the door, and witnessing my reflection commented, "It's sad, isn't it."

I could help but agree with her, I was upset that we were there cheapening her life by breezing past 80 years of experience and success for a couple of couches. My heart was upset that we were there, having to do this... I wanted to leave. But of course, I dared not speak; only assume that her heart was in the same place as mine as I nod in agreement, never looking up from the book.

And in one foul swoop my new compatriot in sorrow crushes my personal pity party with a simple yet insightful comment, changing not only my attitude, but my day: "I think it's so sad that she worked so hard to gain all of this and never had anyone to share it with." Whoa, whoa, whoa, that's not what was expecting to hear, but it's what I needed. What was I thinking? Here I am feeling sorry for a woman who could have cared less for anything that we took, sorry for the fact that we were cheapening her life, when really I should have felt sorry for her cheapened life. For the years that she spent in vain alone, gathering meaningless possessions in search of something so much deeper, so much more; literally traveling across the globe in search of meaning, and as far as we know never achieving it.

After several minutes with my new friend, a casual associate of the deceased, reflecting on the life laid out before me, a collage of emotions collected within me: sorrow, not for the life lost but for the lost life; peace, not in this place but in my heart; wealth, not in the possessions that I have gained, the limited success that I have had, or the insignificant accolades I might have received in the 23 short years that I have been here, but a wealth that the world is searching for, and seldom finds.

Countless are the lessons that I learned from that day, tangent upon tangent could be traveled down. Whether it reminds you the importance of family, the pointlessness of gathering wealth, or the responsibility to share true wealth with the world, I pray that her life will influence yours as much as it has mine, and that the years you have left here will not be spent in vain.