Measuring Heart

Donald worked with flowers for a living. He arranged bouquets for weddings (my own included), funerals (my grandparents among them), and just about every major event you can imagine. He put food on his family’s table, loved his wife and kids, and cared deeply for his employees.

So it was no surprise that Donald’s family, friends and employees showed up, tears in their eyes, to pay their respects when he died of cancer this past weekend. Flowers were there, too – dozens and dozens of colorful bouquets. At first, this may have seemed unnecessary for a florist, but as you looked around the funeral parlor, it felt perfect. This was what he did – he made beauty out of everyday stuff. So a tribute to his life was not complete without the roses and lilies.

So many of us work hard to find beauty in the ordinary, and yet we give ourselves such a hard time about it. We worry about whether we’re earning enough money, and whether we’re impressing our peers, parents and children enough with the things we’ve accomplished.

But there isn’t any salary range for personal fulfillment or community service. Beyond his flower shop, Donald taught developmentally disabled adults how to grow flowers in a greenhouse. He also taught his wife’s elementary-school students how to plant and care for flowers. He did these things, and didn’t necessarily care who knew about them. This was part of who he was. He didn’t become rich helping these adults and kids find beauty in the bloom of a flower. But the richness of what he did there cannot be measured.

You hear about ballplayers going to hospitals sometimes, and it’s like a toss-in piece of information. What matters most these days is the player’s WHIP or OPS or VORP. Jeff Francoeur, an often-maligned ballplayer due to his underachievement as a hitter, has been lighting up the public-relations department of his new team, the New York Mets, thanks to his energetic trips to visit kids in need this summer.

Francoeur has to hit the breaking ball better in order to play baseball for years and years. But he doesn’t need that skill in order to win in life. All he needs is an eye toward personal fulfillment, and an understanding of what success really is. He can talk to Donald’s kids if he wants. He can talk to a lot of us, who might not make as much money as Jeff but know what it feels like to coach a Little League team, or work in a soup kitchen, or raise a child. Or listen.

It doesn’t take much to make this beauty happen. Just a lot of heart.