The story is told of a prosecuting attorney in a small town
courthouse called his first witness, an elderly woman, to the stand. He
approached her and asked, “Mrs. Jones, do you know me?”
President Calvin Coolidge was famously known as a man of few
words. His nickname was “Silent Cal.” His wife, Grace Goodhue Coolidge, told
the story of a young woman who sat next to her husband at a dinner party. She
told Coolidge she had a bet with a friend that she could get at least three
words of conversation from him. Without looking at her he quietly retorted,
“You lose.” Coolidge understood very well the value of using only carefully
considered words—and those being few in number.
Marla Runyan gave her all to qualify for the Olympic Games in
1996, but her best time finished short of the mark to make the United States team.
Undeterred by that failure, she returned in 2000 and made the team for the
Sydney Olympics. Her eighth place finish in the 1,500 meter race was the best
finish ever for a United States woman runner. The thing that makes Runyan’s
accomplishments even more remarkable is that she is legally blind. She is the
first legally blind athlete to ever qualify for and compete in the Olympic
Games.
Every day when the sun rises over Washington DC, its first rays fall on
the eastern side of the city’s tallest structure, the 555-foot
Washington Monument. The first part of that monument to reflect the
rising sun is the eastern side of its aluminum capstone, where these
words are inscribed: Laus Deo, Latin for “Praise be to God.” This
compact prayer of praise, visible to the eyes of heaven alone, is tacit
recognition of our nation’s unique acknowledgment of the place of God in
its founding and its continuance.
At a tea for officers and their wives, the commanding general of a base
delivered a seemingly endless oration. A young lieutenant grumbled to the woman
sitting beside him, “What a pompous and unbearable old windbag that slob is!”
The woman turned to him, her face red with rage. “Excuse me, Lieutenant. Do
you have any idea who I am?”
“No ma’am,” the man fumbled.
“I am the wife of the man you just called an unbearable old windbag.”
“Oh,” said the lieutenant. “And do you have any idea who I am?”
When a
man asked George Mueller the secret of his service, Mueller responded:
“There was a day when I died, utterly died; died to George Mueller, his
opinions, preferences, tastes, and will; died to the world, its approval
or censure; died to the approval or blame even of my brethren and
friends; and since then I have studied to show myself approved only to
God.”
Daniel Sulmasy (then head of
the Bioethics Institute of New York Medical College) made an interesting
discovery while observing dying patients in a hospital. He aimed cameras at the
doorways of terminally ill patients and tracked the number of minutes they spent
alone. He said, “More than eighteen hours a day, there was no one in the room.”
In May of 2001, Erik Weihenmayer accomplished something that
only about 150 people per year do—reaching the top of Mount Everest. The thing
that made Erik’s achievement unusual is that he is the first blind person to
succeed in scaling the tallest mountain in the world. Erik was born with a
disease called retinoschisis, and by the time he was thirteen he was completely
blind. Rather than focus on what he could not do, he made the choice to focus
on what he could do and went much further than almost anyone expected.