It is 5:30 in the morning and I am watching Extreme Makeover.  Fifteen minutes into the program and I am on my third Kleenex.  I am touched.  The mother of three lost her policeman husband. In her grief, she reached out to others in their loss.  I am touched.  Her home is beyond repair from termite infestation.  I am saddened.  She asks for help; I am touched.  The daughters are talented, joyous girls; I am touched.  No bitterness lives here; I am touched.  All four of the women are grateful huggers; I am touched.  The town, the volunteers come en masse; I am touched.

Ask and ye shall receive.  She asked and was heard and is receiving.  I am touched.

I am and always have been easily touched.  In days gone by I tried to hide it as it embarrassed others.  I now own my tenderness.

A tender heart is a beginning.  But to stop there is lip service of the worst kind.  What we understand, what we know, what is revealed to us is our responsibility to act upon.  Are we just putting these encounters into a tidy file-folder and ignoring them? And if so, is the folder bursting at the seams, calling to you to deal with the untidy mess of accumulated emotion?

I am pulling my folder out.  The only order to make of it is action.  Examination of it shows a pattern…what tugs at my heart?  Where is my passion?  What talent do I have to give in remedy of these needs?

When we encounter a need in the world, do we sympathize at a safe distance?

Or are we moved by compassion into action?

Ladies and gentlemen it is time to move.