"Thank God! I am not a cripple."

There is a story of a Michael J. Dowling, a young man who fell from a wagon in a blizzard in Michigan when he was 14 years of age. Before his parents discovered he had fallen from the rear of the wagon, he had been frostbitten. His right leg was amputated almost to the hip, his left leg above the knee; his right arm was amputated, his left hand was amputated. Not much future for a young man like that, was there? Do you know what he did? He went to the board of County commissioners and he told them that if they would educate him he would pay them back every penny.

During the First World War, Mr. Dowling, who was at the time president of one of the largest banks in St. Paul, went to Europe to visit the soldiers -- to visit those who were wounded. I remember reading that upon one occasion he was in a large hotel in London, and he had before him the wounded soldiers in their wheelchairs. They were in the lobby and he was up on the mezzanine floor. As he started to speak he minimized the seriousness of their wounds; the fact that one had lost an eye, another had lost an arm, etc., was no grounds for complaint. And he got those fellows so riled up that they started to boo him. Then he walked over to the stairway and down the stairs towards the lobby, telling them as he walked how fortunate they were, and they continued booing. Finally, he sat down on one of the steps and took off his right leg. And he kept on talking, and telling them how well-off they were. Well, they calmed down a little bit, but they still resented his remarks. Then he took off his left leg. Well, the booing stopped then. But before he arrived at the bottom of the stairs, he had taken off his right arm and flipped off his left hand, and there he sat -- just the stump of a body!

Michael Dowling was the president of one of the biggest banks in St. Paul. He had married, and was the father of five children... he knew how to live, and he knew how to make money, and he knew how to rear a family -- and he finally died as the result of the strength he gave in encouraging the wounded soldiers of the first world war.
(As related by Matthew Cowley, May 18, 1953)

An interesting note, Michael Dowling was known to punctuate his speeches, when addressing the disabled veterans of war "Thank God! I am not a cripple." He made good his promise that he would never become a permanent public charge.

The Unmistakable Eyes Of Courage

You can tell when you have seen real courage. It has an unmistakable feature. The eyes of courage reflect a depth of dignity that is remarkable and transforming.

I have seen a number of remarkable things in my life . But few things move me as when I observe someone in a situation that would scream for self-pity, but instead they ably exercise service and sacrifice.

"Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one's courage."

Yesterday, I spent the better part of four hours at a Boulder, Colorado hospital with a loved one. Most of that time, I was sitting in an uncomfortabe chair in the waiting room. There, I watched people with life-threatening illnesses walk in and out as I shifted in my seat.

Then one woman walked to the door who caught my eye. She wore a rumpled wig. Her eyebrows had been painted back on above her eyes. Her clothes seemed big and draped across her emaciated frame. She carried the gaunt pale of cancer on her face. Nevertheless, she had a smile and charm and outlook that stirred my soul.

As she walked into the room, she cheerily greeted the receptionist (which was a little backwards, if you ask me). Then I watched her check in with others who are waiting for their turn to be tested. Some tried to hide behind a magazine, or push their flip phone a little harder to their ear. But this woman had the uncanny ability of drawing people into her warming circle. People put their magazines away, and closed their phones so that they could enjoy the spirit of this woman.

Sometimes we look at folks, observe their problems, and make the shortsighted and selfish comparison, "at least I don't have it as bad as them!" Then we try to shake off the self-pity, and resume our everyday life. From what I could observe, this woman had it worst of all, yet she was actively seeking to make those in the waiting room a little happier, a little stronger, and a lot more hopeful.

Someone said, "Courage is not the absence of fear, but the awareness that something else is more important." I think this is the real active effort we should shoulder when we make these comparisons on status. Instead of saying, "at least I don't have it as bad as them", we can say, "this reminds me that I have far a more important work to do than to get stuck dwelling on my shortcomings, my sickness, or my sadness."

Could there really be a setback at work that would be so devastating, so all-consuming, that it would be really more important and meaningful than the things that matter most in our lives? Is there really some shortsighted insensitivity from a coworker could be so offensive, so distracting, so egregious, that we set aside our own dignity to angrily react?

You will always see dignity in the eyes of the truly courageous. And while some might bravely stand against the evils of the world, some of the courageous will simply stand for, and demonstrate the good in the world.