Staying Power #173: "The Key Jangler"
Plus a companion poem by Gloria Heffernan
The story that follows sprang directly from my dear friend, Jack Schwarz, with whom I shared a warm reunion during my recent road trip. While writing this, I couldn’t remember all the specifics of what Jack had told me, but I hope that I captured the gist. I’ve paired the story with the poem “Animal Grace,” composed by another dear heart, Gloria Heffernan. (By the way, Jack and Gloria are two of your fellow Rafters.)
Wherever you find yourself in these lines, may you be blessed.
It’s Sunday—a day off for him, as for many. The city is quieter.
He pulls into the parking lot outside the behavioral health center where he works as an interfaith chaplain during the week. He parks on the edge of the asphalt, where the weeds and fences begin.
He steps out of his car. Mindfully closes his door.
He raises his keys in the air. Jangles them.
And the wild ones come, creeping toward him from all directions.
Feral cats. A mastiff. A few birds. A groundhog . . .
He greets each animal by name as it arrives: Casper . . . Gandalf . . . Sleeve . . . Cloud . . . Samson . . . FrickandFrack . . . Stache . . . Gheera . . . Saddle . . . Torte . . .
The animals recognize his kindly voice, just as they had the music of his keys. They flit. They circle. They sniff. They inch forward toward his feet.
They want to be received. But they can’t bear to be touched. He has learned not to try except with his voice and his eyes.
He has learned to be patient.
When all his friends have finally gathered, he offers them the food he has brought. He doesn’t think about the expense.
He watches them eat. These forgotten ones. These lost. These who are unwelcome, living on the margins. These who have nowhere to belong and who, therefore, in the eyes of the world, don’t exist.
For him, they exist.
Because they exist for him, he comes here every afternoon, at the same hour, even on his off days. Even in rotten weather. Even when he tells himself that today he’s too tired or too sick or too busy. Even when he asks himself, “What’s the point of tending this needy menagerie?”
Weekdays, inside the health center, he cares for a throng of wounded human beings, most of them not there by choice. Sometimes when he walks inside, he doesn’t feel up to being there. Sometimes he doubts the good he can do.
But the people inside those walls, like the hungry animals outside, have names. And they’re desperate to be touched by kindness. By presence.
He has a voice.
He has eyes.
He can meet them.
He can be with them.
He can feed them.
All he has to do is keep showing up.
And jangling his keys.
ANIMAL GRACE Gloria Heffernan I have tried all the prayers my mother taught me kneeling by the bedside when I was five. They’re all good, but they’ve never felt like me. I have tried Namaste and Shalom and Amen because I know words matter and I want to choose wisely from the lexicon of peace. But it wasn’t until I saw the three-legged pit-bull bounding across the playground that a prayer rose to my lips that finally said, Oh yes, this is my psalm. This is the hymn I will carry in my heart until the day I die. This is the sacred goal I must aim for. And so, I begin the day with these words. Dear Lord, let me greet every person who crosses my path as if they were a dog. Let my face light up with joy and curiosity. Let my hand reach out with tenderness and care. Let me see and celebrate their eagerness to love. Let me offer up bowls of food and soft blankets. Let me pause and gaze into their deep warm eyes. Let me trust their capacity for goodness. When I find a person who has been mistreated, who growls like a hungry cur in a dark alley, let me approach cautiously, but approach, nonetheless. When I see one who is hungry and trembling in a doorway, let me share with them whatever is mine to give. Let me love first and ask questions later. Let me see in their eyes the answer to the only question that matters. No matter the pedigree, no matter the mix, let me see a creature whose only job is to be loved.
(My thanks to Jack Schwarz and Gloria Heffernan.)
The Gentle Nudge
Join other Rafters this week for . . .
THURSDAY: Poetry Pick-Me-Up (Zoom, 12:00-1:00PM Central, at this link)
I don't normally leave a comment. But this story and this poem were told by two beautiful souls and they touched my heart. I am awake and not comfortable and decided to go through my emails and came upon this. Thank you, Phyllis. There is love and kindness in this world. Blessings to you!
There's no way to fill these comments with enough heart emojis! My heartstrings were tugged, my tear ducts still work. So grateful to be afloat on this raft with Jack, Gloria and Phyllis!!!