REFLECTIONS “YOU DON’T SIT DOWN UNTIL YOU FINISH WHAT YOU GOT UP TO DO”. This is one of those old-time, folk wisdom maxims that sounds simple but packs a hard, direct hit to the gut. On first reading, anyone (as I did) can read it quickly and let out a little smirky laugh. Much like saying … “how cute!” Then we read it again, and little fangs come out, grasp and hold you. And your attention. Not so, you might say. “What do you mean by ‘little’ fangs?”   Well, they are the subliminal messages that are being sent out. “Don’t leave things undone that should be done” … “Finish whatever it is you have started”. Most of us are by nature procrastinators and a bit lazy. Not everyone, mind you. After all, somebody has to get things done! But in truth, we do tend to take the easy way out when possible. We start a project, and when the going gets a little complicated, we consider the possibility of taking a “short-cut” and getting to the finish line while leaving a few issues...

 I  say this without hesitation, without hidden meaning, and without any attempt to soften or decorate the truth: I believe in God and in Christ. There have been moments in my life when I stood alone or, at least, believed I did. Moments when the ground beneath me seemed uncertain, when the path forward was not visible, and when the weight of circumstance could have easily pulled me under. In those moments, I did not fall. I have felt the presence of something greater than myself. Not in spectacle, not in grand signs, but in a quiet, steady strength that held me upright when I had no strength of my own. When I faced illness, when I endured hardship, and when I lived through the most devastating loss a parent can know, the loss of my son, I was not alone. I know this with certainty: had I been spiritually alone, I would not have made it through. Some will say that faith is an emotional support, a crutch for difficult times. That is a fair observation, and I accept it. B...

CUANDO UN AMIGO SE VA… WHEN A FRIEND IS GONE… Some twenty-seven years ago, I met this man in the middle of a business transaction. One of the many people I met over the years, and one of the many impossible transactions I tried to bring to life. That first meeting was uneventful. Almost irrelevant, you might say. It took place in Zurich, Switzerland. We were both there chasing a possibility - a dream which, as dreams often do, can disappear in a wisp, a word, a moment of doubt, leaving little trace behind. We had little opportunity to speak at the time, since we represented different interests. But the stage was set. It seemed we were cut from a similar cloth - more interested in solving the puzzle before us than many of the characters surrounding us. A year later, we met again. This time in Paris, and now working toward the same objective. We stayed in a small neighborhood hotel and finally had the chance to get to know each other. He spoke Portuguese, Spanish, and some French. I spok...

A NEW START ... OF SORTS.  As I walk forward, I see - figuratively speaking - a big, ornate red door ahead. A door that waits patiently for my inevitable arrival. I look at it and see a boldly lettered “80” painted across it in lavish, gold-colored script. It is a reminder that I am already walking into the beginning of my eighth decade in this life - a reality fully supported by several reminders during these past months. Last weekend, while on a short overnight trip, I fell. As in a “Hello, floor - I’d like to get to know you better and closer” kind of fall. A slip on a slightly wet surface. Yes, some folks quickly came over to help, to make sure all was well, to ask whether I wanted to go to a nearby hospital. That was kind of them. My reaction? A mixture of suppressed anger at my own physical failure, a surge of adrenaline, embarrassment, and a quick dash to my room ( this happened at the entrance of the hotel ) to assess the damage. A scraped knee. A couple of red spots ...