Beyond Miracles

I was pretty sure I was seeing a ghost. There he was, my brother John, sitting upright in a chair giving the nurses a hard time about being hungry. God knows what happened last Friday night. And I mean that quite literally. Like Lazarus from the dead, the subject of last Friday's blog, the man poised between life and death, was by Saturday noon a man ready to run a foot race. What caused the change no one seems to know.  

What I do know is that I got an extraordinary response from the readers of this blog. In personal messages, many of you remembered my family in your prayers, remembered us in your thoughts, told me stories of the Johnnys in your own family, shared your recommitment to be your brothers' and sisters' keeper. I am moved. I am grateful.

Lately I have found myself realizing that the practice of leadership is not done in private. While it is true that at minimum we are leading our own lives, it is never a solo act. We are being helped by hands seen and unseen. We are also being watched, you and I, every waking hour. We are leading even when we do not intend it. Sometimes we are seen at our worst.

Yesterday, for example, I was shamed to realize that I had spoken harshly to Deb, my wife, releasing I suppose some of the stress I have felt during my brother's rollercoaster ride between this world and the next. This is no excuse. I love my wife and she deserves only honor. I judge my behavior to have been a failure of leadership. And I will likely fail again. Because I am human.

I told you last week that I had made peace whatever the outcome of Johnny's battle. That he is still here is to some a miracle. To me a miracle is a blade of grass growing or a child's smiling face. What happened to my brother is beyond miracles. If you participated (and by reading my words you did), I want to thank you. My family and I can now celebrate his life and learn from his example. John is a good man. John is a flawed man. John is you and me.