When someone kills the spark inside us

The post of yesterday must be balanced with the reality of what happens around many. I am sure that it sounds as if I am always “high” with the things that I do. To balance it I must also confess.

Before I do – you need to see the perspective of people that have had their spark suppressed or even killed.

First – a young boy by the name of Scott. He was totally in enthralled with his Sunday School Teacher Mr. T. Scott was 9 years old. Mr. T. had promised the boys of his class that they were going for a special outing on the next Saturday. Mr. T. had talked it up big time. As the boys went home from their class that Sunday they were so excited – but none as much as Scott. Scott had always wanted to do this activity promised by Mr. T.

Saturday came. Scott was out of bed early. He got his mom up to make his lunch. He dressed himself. Then he went out of the house to wait. He stood in the driveway for a long time waiting for Mr. T.’s car to pull up. An hour went by. His mom checked on him every once in a while. After an hour Scott settled down to sit on the curb and watch the cars turning down his street. More than another hour passed…

His mother had tried over and over again to get him to come in and maybe do something different. Scott refused because Mr. T. had promised.

As she spoke to me the sadness for her son was more than evident.

So as the Minister I had to follow up with Mr. T. Excuse…He had heard from some of the other boys’ parents that they couldn’t go. Then something came up in his own family. He thought that someone would have called Scott that the planned trip was canceled. It was so sad. Mr. T.’s talk was big – but his actions were not.

You can kill the spark inside. Scott’s spark that day died.

Second – a man by the name of W. had given years of great service to his company. He sacrificed his time with his family and his own personal interests to do his best for his company. One day in his mid fifties he arrived at work to find a note inviting him to come into his boss’s office.

As W. described his recollection of his feelings of that meeting I could feel his pain. The boss in his direct way told W. that he was being let go at that very moment. He was to collect any of his personal affects and leave the company’s office. The boss described the close out package that he was to get. The job that W. had was being down sized and other employees that had worked beside W. would be picking up W.’s portion of the work.

As W. drove home to tell his wife that it was all over he told me of the mixed feelings of anger, loss, confusion, hatred, exhaustion, and horrible fear of not knowing what would happen to a 55 year old unemployed worker that had done well all his working life – but now it was over.

As I listened to the story it was evident to both Win and me that one man – or possibly two – had changed the course of the company out of personal interests or a really stupid decision. They had almost destroyed a man’s life and his family in doing so. But the spark that they tried to put out was not their problem.

Third – in our area the GM workers have been parading up and down the road leading into the General Motors Head Office of Canada. A contract was recently settled and signed by the company and the union. Everything was in place for another few years of peace in the labour force. Suddenly the GM officials had announced from a far away office in “GM Heaven” that the entire Truck/Larger vehicle factory was closing and thousands would be losing their jobs on a certain date.

The blame game started. The price of gas was the fault. The government’s tax on the gas was the fault. The Union’s grab for money and the strength of the bargaining position was the fault. The GM Head Office was at fault for not keeping their word. The fact that fewer and fewer people were buying – or were able to buy a larger SUV or a Truck was more likely the problem…. BUT EVERYONE ELSE WAS THE PROBLEM.

After the announcement the hurt was real. Lots of men like my friend W. went home to tell their wife and kids that the good life was over. Soon the family would have no income. Any jobs that might be available in the community would be grabbed by whoever could get them. The spark in the lives of each GM worker from that plant had gone out – actually been snuffed.

Lots of men develop an alcohol problem when they have the spark blown out. Lots of men want to die.

Confession time… oh boy…
For three years I have helped out as a volunteer at Lang Pioneer Village. Yesterday I revealed the “why” of what I do. I wish that I would have waited to Friday the 13th before being so open.

Following the revelation to my world of what I so loved about the experience at LPV – my delight came crashing down.

Yesterday - The small shop had been filled with sparkling eyed children from Grade 3 classes from all over the area. There were over 188 students brought by their teachers yesterday – it was a very full day.

Just after 1 PM there was a lull in the students coming through the doors. I grabbed a sandwich to put down my hunger. As I wiped the last crumb from my face, a lady walked into the small carpenter shop. Coming over to the work bench she quickly zoomed in on the few toys I had set out for kids to enjoy.

You will not really understand what is going on at that moment. It is an 1850s carpenter shop. I have been acting the part of a 1850s carpenter, as a volunteer, helping the kids to see back in time. At the very end I added a portion of the story that described the Day of Rest – Sunday – when children and adults were to do nothing – and it was a boring time. The carpenter had worked hard all week. It was a time when Grandpas, like me, made toys like these...

In about 3 minutes at the end I tell them about toys that were made for kids during the 1850s.

Well it seems that someone didn’t take kindly to my presentation. The “dear lady” addressing me began to let me have it verbally with a series of questions. I was not catching the total impact or what was happening. The toys lying on the bench were part of the infraction I had committed – apparently. The “exhibit” of the carpenter’s shop was defiled with what was laying on the workbench. I was found guilty!

It was then that I asked who the heck she was!? I asked carefully if she was a guest to the LPV – or maybe a parent expert? No she was the most important person a Museum could have – she was the expert that had brought about all of the things in the “display”. I cannot tell you her name or her position. I can tell you that I felt as if she was important and I should be frightened to death. I was.

Mustering a wee bit of courage at that moment I kindly told her that I was a volunteer and if she wished they could fire me…. ?(not right on my part I guess) ….and I did not appreciate her coming into the middle of what I was doing with the children ….and that they were after all Grade 3 kids…that needed something to keep their attention ( the reason that I had for displaying a few toys…) On top of that “dear lady”… “YOU HAVE NOT HEARD ANY OF WHAT I HAVE SAID OR WHAT MY PRESENTATION HAD BEEN….”(struggling to keep my reason for being there…)

I asked who might have been upset or complained. And she would not tell me who. From then on it would mean that whoever came through the door could be a complainant. It was like realizing a cloud was over your head and about to rain.

The interaction was less than three minutes I am guessing. Another load of kids was pouring in for a time with the old carpenter. But something had happened… the spark died in me. The lady had a job to do I guess. And she did it. And it killed the carpenter

Two hours later the spark was dead. I had nothing left to give. And I left the program.

I have discovered again that you can kill the spark in a volunteer, in a host of factory workers, in one man by the name of W. and little boys like Scott.

And personally…. I am very much less than perfect – I am a volunteer! The spark went out.

Today I am wondering…. Does anyone have a place for a really good 1850s carpenter that is presently unemployed… This is too much like real life.

~ Pastor Murray Lincoln ~
(POST SCRIPT - Revised slighty- Saturday AM - There is a reason for everything. The kind staff at LPV called. Thanks guys and gals. It has been a good three years.)