It’s Something I can Do

Years ago my Uncle Ron Chapman and his lovely wife, Nance, invited my parents, Jim and Katie Chapman, to join him for a cruise. This is not the sort of cruise most of us take–where thousands of people are crammed into small cabins sharing recirculated air. While most of us would welcome that sort of vacation, Ron had a different excursion in mind! He chartered a ship that came with a staff, including a private chef. He also invited his sister and her husband, Florence and Fred Littauer, to the floating party. The six of them were the sole passengers. With a crew ready to meet their every need, they headed out into aqua waters where they had days to reconnect with each other. Since all three siblings were public speakers, I can only imagine the volume and constancy of their conversation!

Ron had a gift for creating significant moments. He knew who he was inviting into any particular experience. He knew their gifts and shaped the experience to more than satisfy their needs and desires. He was a gracious host and expected nothing in return. My dad stated that, if his brother invited him to join in on an adventure, he would drop everything, pack a bag, and run to meet him. He could completely trust that his little brother would know what suited him best and have a great experience in store. As they disembarked from the ship, my dad stood before his brother unable to adequately express his gratitude for such a tremendous gift. He described his brother’s response to his words of thanks. As my father fawned all over him, Ron simply smiled modestly and said: “It’s something I can do.”

No fanfare. No egotistical posturing. No consideration of what my dad owed him because of his extravagance. Simply joy that he could provide for his siblings this fantastic time of respite from the daily grind.

IT’S SOMETHING I CAN DO.

One brother for another, the younger treating the older to a memorable vacation. 

Three Rooms Behind the Store

These are the brothers who shared a bunk bed in the same room with their dad. He was older than most dads so he got the twin bed. His wife, my grandmother, shared a daybed with her daughter. Every morning it was folded away to make a little more space in their tiny communal area. Running a general store for their hometown of Haverhill, Massachusetts, they lived in three small rooms behind that store. One was the bedroom that became the men’s quarters. One was a small communal space that had room only for a table with four chairs. (That’s right, there were five of them.) The daybed that my grandmother and aunt slept on served as a couch during daylight hours. The third room was a small bathroom that had a sink and toilet. No bathtub or shower. Water was heated for a bath each Saturday. Four of the family members vacated the living space so that one of them could bathe. One after another was given privacy to clean up for the church and another week’s activities.

Ron was a beloved DJ in Dallas for well over three decades. He was “a big deal”, words he would readily attribute to others but never to himself. He rose from very meager means to high acclaim that earned him a place in the Radio Hall of Fame! Ron Chapman’s genius as a DJ and his caring nature was forged in that store. The family lived their private life in the public eye. The only place that had ample room to seat five around a table was in the store. So, as they sat down to eat their dinner, they knew it was entirely possible that Mrs. Miller would stop by to purchase laundry soap during their dinner hour. When she did, she would interact with the whole family as they ate their baked beans and spam supper. Then one of them would step away from the table to ring her up. From a young age the three Chapman siblings were taught to ask, “May I help you? Is there something I can help you find? It was good to see you.”

 That humble servanthood would later lead Ron to answer my father’s overflowing gratitude with modesty:

IT’S SOMETHING I CAN DO.

Into the Next Generation

My husband and I just returned from a week in Florida. We stayed in my sister and brother-in-law’s condominium in Cocoa Beach. As a gift for my retirement from church ministry, they invited us to choose a week to spend in their paradise. We chose a week in early March. Knowing we would be on sandy beaches with warm temperatures got us through our long, gray, Michigan winter. In thanking them profusely for their generosity, their answer, in essence, was:

IT’S SOMETHING WE CAN DO.

Our joy gave them joy. They used their personal resources for our sake. It is something they didn’t have to do that gave them pleasure.

Life’s Greatest Rewards

Hopefully, as the years go by, our experiences teach us that life’s greatest rewards come from serving others. Whether we are of modest means or can set a private cruise in motion with a phone call, we have gifts to share. These are not all material. In fact, the best gifts come in sharing ourselves authentically with another. In an era when folks would rather text a message than talk by phone, being intentionally with someone and affirming their gifts is life-giving. Looking someone in the eye and giving them our undivided attention can change the trajectory of that person’s life. When opportunities arise to share from our material well-being, how rewarding that can be!

Our house burned to the ground in 2007. The cause remains unknown. While that is a definitive marking point in our family history, what we remember was the sacrificial outreach of others. We were asked countless times, “What can I do for you?” I took people up on their offers, each uniquely personalized by the giver of the gift. I wrote down in a spiral notebook who gave what and doled out thank you note assignments to my husband and children each week—for months! Five pages of single-spaced lines delineated the warm response folks made to meet our needs. When we voiced our thanks, they answered with words that transformed our tragedy into a source of redemptive hope:

IT’S SOMETHING I CAN DO.

Wow.

I wonder what I can do? What is something you can do that is easy for you, yet can be a big blessing to someone else?

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Laurie is an ordained pastor who recently retired from more than 30 years in parish ministry to pursue chaplaincy in a hospice setting. She is a spiritual director, grief counselor, and author. She loves time with her family, cooking good meals, and traveling. You may follow her at preachinglife.net.