In partnership with the Creator

Once there was a dreamer, who dreamed dreams of far-off lands where cherry blossoms bloomed and sweet aromas filled cleaner-than-clean air. It hardly mattered that, in reality, there was no flower in sight and the smells were smelly, and the fumes in the air made him cough all day: He was a dreamer, and so his dreams were as real as the nose on his face, and he had a prominent proboscis.

One day the gap between his dreams and his reality filled his heart with an unusual sadness, and he appealed to the Creator of the Universe: “Lord, make my dreams real, please, if you wish.”

Suddenly there arose a blinding light, and the sky crackled with energy, and a voice that came from everywhere replied, “Dreamer, I would love to make your dreams come true, but you must also do your part. My part is creation, your part is maintenance and repair, and we both contribute love.”

“I can do that,” the dreamer agreed.

It began to rain, and the rain washed away the stink. The dreamer planted cherry trees and lilacs, and he lifted weeds from the soil until his hands and arms ached.

I would like to say it wasn’t long before his dreams came true, but it takes a long time for cherry trees and lilacs to grow. Still, there came a day when cherry blossoms bloomed and the air was clean, and the dreamer whispered, “Thank you, Lord.”

“You’re welcome,” said the Creator. “Keep up the good work.”

Even The Last Step

On the cusp of a thought, on the threshold of a dream, close to realizing what it all means, he stumbled.

“No!” he shouted into the dust. “Not this time!”

Slowly, painfully, he wrestled the thought back into his consciousness. Excruciatingly, he pulled the dream into himself. With one last mighty lunge, he sprang into realization. His eyes lit with a strange fire and, just as suddenly, extinguished.

“That’s not it, either,” he muttered.

“Better keep trying,” said a nearby voice. It was an elf — a pretty Tolkien elf, not a big-eared Rowling elf — and it smiled with the patience of the gods.

“Why don’t you just tell me?” he sputtered in frustration.

“You need to earn it,” the elf said, “and you wouldn’t believe me anyway. It has to come from you and not from somewhere out here.”

They stared at each other across the garden path.

“”I am on the edge of discovery, the very brink, and you won’t pull me over the top,” he said almost savagely.

“I wish I could, but I can’t.”

“Can’t, or won’t.”

The elf considered. “Nope — it’s can’t. You have to take each step on your own.”

“Even the last step?”

“Especially the last step.”

It took longer than he cared to admit, but once he arrived at the inevitable conclusion, he saw that the elf had been right all along.

What was the answer? What does it all mean?

I wish I could tell you.

But I can’t.

What I concluded after 50 years in community journalism

I spent a half-century in community journalism, at small-town radio stations and newspapers, and I met thousands of people. The vast majority loved their hometowns and just wanted to do something good for their families and communities.

Oh, I met my share of slick politicians who had an agenda, but I met many more who had a heart to make the world a little better for their efforts.

Many people who get a regular look at the dark side of human nature start to see the dark side as the norm, concluding that people are just bad at their core. There may be some truth there — some of the best people I’ve met agree that we have all sinned and certainly fall short of the glory of God — but every day and everywhere, I have seen people fighting to be the best version of themselves.

My conclusion after 50 years of observation is that the good people outnumber the phonies and the sociopaths, and it’s not even close. We cheer for the success stories, we support those in need, we grieve for the departed, we love our kids and most kids are good kids. I’ve seen my share of creepy and evil people, don’t get me wrong, but they are a tiny fraction of those thousands of people I’ve met.