Mattie Stepanek was an acclaimed poet and humanitarian who died in 2004, a month before his 14th birthday, from a rare form of muscular dystrophy called Dysautonomic Mitochondrial Myopathy.

I met him for the first time in 2000, when he was 11 and received a National Caring Award. He was in a wheelchair with a tracheotomy tube attached to a ventilator, smiling with joy, and sitting next to his mother who has a milder form of the disease. She had four children, three of whom had already died from this inherited disorder; Mattie was the only one left.

A few months earlier he almost died when the bleeding in his trachea wouldn’t stop. His doctors were so sure he was dying they asked him what his last wishes were. Mattie said he wanted to publish his poems which he had been writing since he could hold a pencil. Friends granted his dying wish and published a couple hundred copies. Good Morning America and Oprah then found him and the rest is history. His poetry book, Journey Through Heartsongs, was on the New York Times bestseller list.

We met again the year before he died at the Kennedy Center in Washington D.C. when he introduced former President Jimmy Carter before a speech. Mattie said Jimmy Carter was his hero, because he believed in and promoted world peace. Mattie said that was his dream, too, to be a peacemaker in the world.

In the last year of his life he collaborated on a book with Jimmy Carter; it has just been published and is called Just Peace. Mattie was afraid he might not be around to finish it (he was right), but his mother edited his final words…… “my body is trying to die more and more, even though my spirit is trying to keep it going a little bit longer.” He said no kid with this disease had ever lived this long, “I have always known I’m living on borrowed time, and I have figured out that borrowed time takes one second at a time just like regular time. I just appreciate them as incredibly precious. I don’t care if I have an hour or a millennium, I’m going live it to the fullest because I can always find something to look forward to.

Mattie Stepanek inspired me and millions of others including Jimmy Carter who delivered the eulogy at Mattie’s funeral. The former President described him as “the most remarkable person I have known in my life.” At the service they read this poem:

“A champion is an optimist/a hopeful spirit/someone who plays the game/even when the game is called life/ especially when the game is called life/ there can be a champion in each of us/ if we live as a winner/ if we live as a member of the team/ if we live with a hopeful spirit/ For life.”

This is my New Year blessing: a happy, championship New Year to you all. I say this for all my relations, Mi takuye oyacin.

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For the last 25 years, a 64-year-old shoeshine man who earns $10,000 a year, gets up at 5 AM on Tuesdays and Thursdays and takes two buses to get to Children’s Hospital in Pittsburgh where he sets up his shoeshine box. Mr. Albert Lexie charges three dollars for the shine, and he puts the tips into canisters that say “Help Albert’s Kid’s.”

Mr. Lexie began his charitable work in 1981 when he watched a telethon supporting the hospital’s needy kids. He donated his life’s savings of $750, and afterward started giving his tips to the Free Care Fund. Albert was not raised in an affluent family; as a matter of fact, he grew up poor with three siblings who were raised by a single mother in a public housing project. He was a slow learner who attended special-ed classes where he learned to read and write. When he was about 15, he built his own shoe shine box in a shop class. He decided that’s what he wanted to do and dropped out of school after eighth grade.

When his mother died in 1978, he moved into a one-bedroom apartment where he still lives. He attends services every Sunday at the Riverside Tabernacle Church where he likes to sing gospel music and sometimes does solos.

Albert recently reached the $100,000 mark in his contributions, and the hospital celebrated the occasion by throwing a party. Doctors, nurses, staff and friends from all over Pittsburgh were on hand for the gala at which they unveiled a plaque with his picture and the words “Congratulations Albert, Shining for Kids $100,000 and growing.” When Albert spoke, he said he appreciated the doctors, nurses and the staff for all their good work, and he thanked all of his good customers. He told the audience he didn’t do anything special — he was doing God’s work and he loved the kids. Albert was also honored last month with a National Caring Award as a servant-leader for his dedication, hard work and passion for making life better for others.


We don’t wash the feet of others much anymore, but there are still some who kneel at the feet of society and remind us how we can transcend our humblest beginnings to work miracles. A shoeshine saint at Christmas.

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This is the season of celebratory joy and light in the world. Increasingly, it is becoming a celebration of crass commercialism. This year the mixture reached a new low when I read this story about a mother who left her 2-year old son sleeping in her car to make a quick shopping trip.

A 39-year-old former preschool teacher drove her BMW up to the valet parking of a high-end mall in Scottsdale. She told the valet to watch the boy while she went shopping for a few minutes. She dashed into Neiman-Marcus to pick out a Christmas gift and some makeup, leaving the toddler sleeping but taking along her pocket-sized dog.

The parking valet reported her to mall security who, in turn, called the Scottsdale police. The woman is facing a court hearing on child endangerment charges, and Child Protective Services is now involved.

When this story appeared last week, it elicited tens of thousands of responses. Most expressed outrage, but some were sympathetic: for example, the child was sleeping soundly; it was the height of his nap time; she took the dog so it’s barking wouldn’t wake the child; and she did tell the valet instead of self-parking.

To me, it’s just another example of a culture whose obsession with acquiring things destroys judgment. A culture which determines what’s right by what you can get away with. And should poor judgment result in getting caught, just point your finger at something (or someone) other than yourself. For example, tell the hearing officers that at the time of the alleged incident, you were suffering from Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and are taking medication that can cause lapses in judgment.

It’s Christmas, Chanukah, Kwaanza — all celebrations of light for humanity. When we go shopping and leave behind that which is holiest in our lives, we are losing our humanity.


It’s Away in a Manger, not Away in a Beemer. Let’s get away from our self-absorption and conspicuous consumption and back into the spirit of these holidays that celebrate the human spirit.

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It was time for our annual “Boys Trip,” that yearly male-bonding ritual with my son-in-laws where I come to peace with the fact that I have to share my beloved daughters with these rapists who have stolen them from me. It’s easier being with them now — after all, for most of them it’s been at least a decade, and they have blessed me with 6 grandchildren. This year brings a newly acquired son-in-law who is by nature a gentle soul, and I am mellowing with age.

This year, we almost didn’t make the trip. One of my sons was hospitalized with an acute GI bleed the week before our anticipated departure. During those days of uncertainty, we were reminded of the transient nature of our days. We left him in good hands and went off to the Mayan Riviera where we explored the ancient ruins, went cavern diving, ate fresh ceviche, drank lots of beer, and sang songs late into the night.

One night in the moonlight, I sat on the beach watching an approaching storm. Descending from the ominous clouds were streaks of falling rain. In the enveloping darkness, I thought about my missing son and had the awareness that there would come a time when I too would miss this trip. The wind picked up, and the storm moved more quickly than I had thought. In the billowing clouds I saw two angels, both covered in flowing white gowns; one was looking prophetically into the distance, and the other had an outstretched arm pointing into the distance. It began sprinkling and the gusting winds changed the clouds into a galloping horse whose head was straining forward with mane flowing as it flew across the night sky.

The moon became obscured by the fast-moving clouds and the celestial forms were now illuminated from behind. The galloping horse morphed into a clipper ship under full sail. I was so riveted by the kaleidoscopic sky show that I didn’t run when the sprinkles became a downpour. Pelted by the rain, I saw in the distance the moonlight begin to shine through. The cloud cover was thinning; the tropical storm would soon blow over.

In the coming light, surrounded by my sons and brother, I understood that the antidote to the fear of death is to embrace the possibilities of where we are now. We live, love, hurt, change, age, and we all know how it ends. The goal is not to feel good in every moment or preserve what we have, but rather to not feel threatened by what we face.


The Hopi Indians believe that one’s last breath becomes a cloud. We can be seen even after we depart this earthly realm. Angels, galloping horses and sailing ships are what we become. Savor every moment because, like clouds, our lives move more quickly than we imagine. We are remembered in the clouds by those who feel our presence.

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For the past 26 years, a man known only as Secret Santa has wandered the streets of Kansas City giving out money. In 1979, after he’d been fired again and was down and out, he was pondering his misery at a drive-up diner . . . “it was cold, and the car hop didn’t have on a very big jacket and I thought to myself, I think I got it bad. She sat there in the cold making nickels and dimes. I gave her $20 and told her to keep the change, and suddenly I saw her lips begin to tremble and tears begin to flow down her cheeks and she said ‘Sir, you have no idea what this means to me’ and I thought Wow! I had never had a feeling like that.”

Secret Santa went to the bank that day and took out $200 in fives, tens and twenties and drove around looking for people who looked like they needed help. Since then he’s done it every year, and now, because he has a lot more money, he gives out $100 bills. To date he has handed out about $1.3 million to strangers.

Larry Stewart is Secret Santa and in April of this year, doctors told him he had cancer of the esophagus that had spread to his liver. His treatment costs more than $16,000 a month which (guess what!) his insurance company won’t cover. Larry Stewart isn’t asking for anything, he just wants to speak out and tell people how good it feels to give. “That’s what we’re here for,” he says.

Since his story appeared in an Associated Press article a couple of weeks ago, he has received letters from people around the country telling him what his random acts of kindness have meant to them. He appeared on CNN and choked up when he said, “There’s people praying for me, and I don’t even know ‘em.”


You may not know us Larry Stewart, but we know you. We know that you remind us of what we might become and that’s why we’re praying for you. I’m praying for you too, Larry, and so are all my relatives.

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