Author Archives: Mark J. Hahn

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About Mark J. Hahn

“What we have to be is what we are.” ― Thomas Merton As I continue along life's journey, honestly coming to grips with what I am, enabled me to finally let go and simply be. There is no shame to be found in it whatsoever. And as time passes, my only regret is that I didn't sooner. But then again, this all came to be when it was supposed to. Not when I wanted it to. I just have to be what I am.

I sure didn’t.

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Daily writing prompt
What was the best compliment you’ve received?
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So just a little bit about me first.

Maybe I share the same boat with some of you. Pulling an oar of low or no self esteem. Little or no awareness of self worth or value. Throw in a modicum of shame to go along with it. Maintaining an unhealthy reliance on others to determine these for me, because after all, they know better than I. Right?

So when you go about things like that, life turns out pretty much circular if you can picture it. Until someone chooses to climb aboard, take up the one on the other side, and row along with you for a bit. New waters. Different view of the horizon. Testing endurance. Working together towards a shared vision. As one. Blessed to say the occupancy on my vessel has grown of late.

You probably can guess what patriarchal pun is destined to follow that last sentence.

To me, compliments take on a different form. They aren’t so much made up of just words. They go far deeper than that. I view them as intention. A truly authentic giving of one into another, residing in trust, compassion and honesty. Putting another’s value and worth on display through thought, word and deed. An intentional proclamation of what another truly means to those about them.

Sorry, getting a little windy out here.

So last night, at our pizza gathering for the basketball season, a young man literally ran across the gym and just about bent me in half with a jumping bear hug. I work with him twice a week as it is and we make things happen together. But he hugged me yesterday like he hadn’t seen me for years. Just because. No words were involved, but that was a compliment I will not soon forget.

Years ago, a pillar of youth sports in our community thought I should hop on board and help steer the football program for the families here. His faith in me and who he saw from afar complimented the person I was desperately searching to find. His compliment changed my life. And to this day, I remain a coach.

A young man asked that I might come to speak to his team in the hopes that they would figure out how to grow closer together in intention, trust, faith and fellowship. I am still giddy about that night and how I still feel about becoming a part of them.

And when she can, my best friend and partner employs her gift of creation to make the best recipes that are good for me for all of the right reasons. Just because.

Others around me just reach out because they have a spot open on their boat. And the circular journey they are on may be a perpetual revisitation to the shores of Depair, Worthlessness, Emptiness and Isolation. A trip I took. Places I know all too well. Destinations they do not deserve if I can help it.

Had I been able to see compliments in this fashion before, I would have taken them more to heart.

Having teammates that wanted me to be their captain, twice.

A business owner picking me out of the blue, literally off the street to represent his company.

A fellowship asking me to help lead.

Being able to have you read my thoughts.

And of late, finally hearing His voice tell me I am worthy and calling me to come aboard.

A compliment isn’t so much “hey, did you lose weight?” Or, “you look good in that car.”

I am coming to realize that they consist of very few or absolutely no words. They are gifts another gives you because you are truly worth it in their heart, mind and soul. They value the genuine connection that exists so they share themselves with you. They see who you truly are, even if you are blind to that view.

They want you in their boat. Or are more than happy to come aboard yours and pick up the one next to you.

Who ever thought wanting to row with another was such a fulfilling compliment.

I sure didn’t.

.

Together.

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About thirteen years ago, I started to carry a pail to football practice. At the time, it was meant to be a lesson for the kids. But ever since then, it has since become a poignant one for me. One about the essence of understanding, moving towards life and being open to true love. 

I shared a story about that pail with the players and parents in our community youth football program. How it held the most fertile soil around. Dark, rich, 100% Lemke Park dirt.  The finest in all of Mequon. How at one time, it had been home to bumper crops of corn, soybeans or perhaps even wheat. 

And as the lesson began to unfold, I shared how it had since grown into the best piece of grass in all of M-T. How even to this day, despite the goal posts, sleds and painted lines, it remained true to its original purpose; a farm. A place where some of the best young men and finest football players around are grown each year. 

I posited that since both grass and football players seem to grow so well on it, there had to be something about that dirt. I touched on its medicinal qualities.  How its composition acted as a salve for the pains and disappointments in life.  “A handful of that soil, when applied to where it hurts”, I said, “would make it all go away.” 

To “rub some dirt on it”, in football and life parlance. 

That tale was penned to buck them up, get them past their self-doubts, move them beyond discomfort, to take on challenging situations and help them overcome fear.  A motivational ploy to help them grow.  Like that dirt was to that old farm. Like football is to life.

But to one, the message resonated in an altogether different manner.  Though she read everything he’d written, this particular offering struck a different chord. This time, she “saw” something else.  Not just what was woven into those words.  But in the fabric of the one carrying that pail. 

She understood the lesson being taught. Its intention. How it was meant to promote growth.  But something at her core became focused on the one carrying the pail. And being that she happened to be made that way also, the connection was obvious.  The pail was part of her being too.

For her, it was not merely a prop. It spoke to her in a far more substantial way.  More than just “rub some dirt on it”. That pail was representative of what their  ultimate mission was to be.  Together. As one.

She  came to realize that he was just like her.  He shared in her life purpose. Vocation.  Yet in his own way.  And at some level, she simply wanted him to know that he was not alone in that.  In time, he began to see her.  To understand and appreciate that she was just like him.  

No longer would she be alone in pursuing her passion. And he now knows within his own core that same “something” she first sensed within hers.  Beyond what is merely woven into words.  But in the very fabric of his being. 

That she is within him. 

Ineinander. 

The seed of what has since become a life-long bond.

Gardeners both. 

Two fully intent on producing healthy, lasting, and abundant growth within one another.  

Within everyone they touch.  

And everywhere they go. 

Two that were always intended to carry that pail of dirt. 

Together.  

And therein lay the healing.

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This morning’s gospel John 5:1-16, was broken down into an amazing insight.  At least for this guy.  You can always read the words but unless deeper perspectives from others are offered and shared in a meaningful way, you may find yourself living in quite the linear manner. 

The intention within this biblical discourse is apparent.  But when other ways of looking at this particular interaction at a healing pool in Bethesda are provided, the connection takes on a whole new mass.  It truly reflects what the name literally means, “house of mercy, or grace.” 

“Do you want to be well?”

The sick man answered him, “Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up; while I am on my way, someone else gets down there before me.”

Father pointed out that the man, invalided for thirty-eight some years, did not answer His question.  Instead, he went on to describe his life, wrought of isolation, abandonment and hopelessness.  Not just that I have no one to help me into the pool, but pure and simple, “I have no one”.  

Father suggested that perhaps when he was younger, family may have helped him move about to partake in some of these healing moments in the water.  But now, approaching the middle of his life, he is essentially by himself. 

Alone.  

“While I am on my way, someone else gets down there before me”, emphasizing the utter disregard of others and his worthlessness to society. 

Imagine that.

Not just crippled for life, immovable and unable. But deemed unneeded, untouchable and unloved.  Being so crippled by that horrific experience that he didn’t even hear the question posed.

And it wasn’t asked a second time either.  He just healed him and sent him on his way.  Too bad some of that healing didn’t waft its way over to the clerics admonishing him for having the audacity to carry his mat, for the first time in his life, on the sabbath. 

Crippled may carry with it the connotation of strictly physical limitations.  But it may come to impart its will on one’s mental or emotional state.  Perhaps even spiritually.  It can be an all inclusive state.

So while He mended his body, He truly mended the man’s spirit.  Giving him life in more ways than one. We are all asked to do the same.  To be there for others.

One way alms were described to me was to simply give of yourself.  Your time.  Your empathy and compassion.  And therein lay the healing. support.  Your love.  Your presence. All forms of personal wealth we can access and share abundantly without ever breaking the bank.

So when you find yourself in a house of grace, do your part to offer alms of healing as best as you can.

You will never be expected to say ““Stand up, take your mat and walk.”

That is what He does. 

But you can definitely listen with true compassion, offer them support and love, and help them to rise from defeat and isolation.  

Simply be present for them, in that house of mercy.

For He would want you to.  

And therein lay the healing.

Into truly safe harbor.

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As I shared prior, this time of year brings with it an abundance of learning.  The tenets of these forty days provide a way to sincerely approach the remaining three hundred and twenty five.  True and absolute connection.  

This for one such example:

Towards the beginning of his reading, “…the water flowed down from the right side of the temple, south of the altar.”  

Concluding with this revelation, “…for they shall be watered by the flow from the sanctuary.”

Though it was not yet Good Friday and a Roman lance had yet to pierce and make the flow transpire, this offering from Ezekial five hundred some years prior, beautifully ascribes the origins of His life giving font of life. 

Not simply a trickle. But rather, growing in all manner and form. Ever flowing from His body, becoming tributary providing for all the one true sanctuary of life.  

It’s not about testing the waters. Or letting them take you away. 

It’s about allowing His loving current draw you near. 

Into truly safe harbor. 

Just not for me.

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Daily writing prompt
You’re going on a cross-country trip. Airplane, train, bus, car, or bike?
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I might consider taking a plane, train and automobile if I could pal around with Neal and Del along the way. Would definitely bring my own pillow.

After being on planes for business much of my professional life, doing that really wouldn’t float my boat. Then I would have to get pods and PJ’s and slippers. There is something appealing about trains, but it is like you are encased. You can see out, but not sure if they will let you roll the windows down. Same with a bus. Not on a track, but kinda like a train on wheels.

When I did have a choice for business travel, I would gravitate towards cars. Control of music and windows, take an exit to some place that looked intriguing, cold call around a desolate industrial park. Just kind of like a true adventure. Way more relaxed. With phones the way they are these days, you could talk to anyone anywhere as you made your way towards, I don’t know, Arcade, NY.

I do like the prospects of the bike however. Wonder if Google maps features a non-knucklehead route across the country. But then again, I don’t think I would want my phone on me. No music either. Just the sound of the wind, the warmth of the sun and the splat of the bugs on my face. Perhaps a puppy or two inspiring me to sprint from certain destruction on the pavement. That would truly be rejuvenating.

So to circumvent potential Road America drivers, maybe stick a rack on the car, take the bike to some wide open spaces, ride the day, then pack up and head off to the next adventure. For this old fart, that would be the way to go cross-country.

Sorry Neal.

Sorry Dell.

Upon further review.

Just not for me.