Someone sent me an Email that was a simple quiz, asking me if I could name the richest people in the world. Then it asked me to name the last three Heisman Trophy winners. Then the winners of the Super Bowl, the World Series, the Miss America contest, the Nobel Prize, and the Academy Awards. I got some of them right for this year, but didn’t do very well beyond that. The headliners of yesterday, the best in their fields, the top winners that achieved first place are soon forgotten, as are the also-rans and runners-up and honorable-mentions. It doesn’t take long for the awards to tarnish, the certificates to fade, and for the applause and cheering to die.
Then there was a part two to the quiz. It asked me to remember a teacher who helped me along the way, a few friends who assisted in difficult times, a neighbor who did something special, a grocery clerk who was friendly, and somebody who made me feel special. That part was much easier. In fact, my mind began to think back to people who have long since gone out of my life, but they made an impact.
There was a lady who invited me to “Good News Club”, in which I don’t remember a thing they taught, except she gave me cookies and told me that Jesus loved me so much He was willing to die for me. Fifty years later it is still the best thing I ever heard.
I remember a friend who took me with him when I was so shy, and introduced me to all of his friends, and some of those friends actually liked me, and suddenly the dirty air of Birmingham smelled like “home”, and I loved it!
There was a lady whom I didn’t even know, who thought that my voice was so special she insisted that I sing two songs at her wedding, though I had never done a solo before. But I practiced really hard and pulled it off!
I also remember a teacher in college who thought one of my essays was so good that she read it to the whole class. And there was a really beautiful girl in school who thought I was “cute” and told me so. (It was a long time ago!) And some strange but wonderful people who always laughed aloud at my jokes, even the dumb ones, saying I just “cracked them up”. Even that YMCA football game when my teammates cheered because I had “sacked” the opposing quarterback. I wasn’t very good, but on that one play, that one time, I was great!
Then there was a lonely evening when I was discouraged and miserable, and an old friend “out of the blue” called me and invited me to something really special, saying it would not be the same without me.
And the time when my little boy said that he didn’t want me to buy him anything; he only wanted to be with me.
And that cold November night when I thought that I would bring encouragement to my dying father by watching a football game with him. In the first quarter, he said, “Jimmy, please turn off the ball game and just talk to me about my true home that I’m about to go to.”
And then there was that special and ecstatic time when the love of my life said, “I love you”. And the time many years later, when our hearts were broken and we had thought the marriage would end, that she sent me a card that simply said, “Come get me.”
As I looked again at the quiz, I realized that none of the “top achievers” in any field had made any difference in my life at all. But many relative unknowns had made enormous contributions to everything that is good in my life.
I realized that shiny trophies, coveted Oscars, and prestigious awards are fine for only a very short while. But those who invest in the lives of others are the real winners, the real heroes, the ones who will not be forgotten. It’s not about success, or fame, or being in the record books. It’s not about being number one. It’s about being a friend. It doesn’t take any special talent. But it takes time, and heart, and unselfishness, and caring enough to show up.
From a desperate and confusing time in the late sixties, the importance of being a friend came home to us meaningfully in a song by Simon and Garfunkel:
When you’re weary—feeling small
When tears are in your eyes—I will dry them all;
I’m on your side when times get rough
And friends just can’t be found,
Like a bridge over troubled water, I will lay me down.
Like a bridge over troubled water, I will lay me down.
Come to think of it, maybe that is a special talent –a very special one. I’m going to have to deal with the fact that I will never get an Oscar. I will never wear a World Series ring. I will never score a touchdown in a stadium. My name will not be engraved on a trophy.
But I can be a bridge for somebody who might not make it without me. I will lay me down.
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