The Butcher

The butcher.

There was so much that I didn’t understand, until I did.
What does grace look like?
Does it look like good ground beef?
Does to me.
What a silly thing, but it’s all right there.

My cousin Mike and I were trying to dissect it a few years ago.
What made it so good?

Integrity, that’s it.
That’s what made it so good.
That’s what made him so good.

How many times did he say,
“Timmer,
I just follow the golden rule…”

It was so simple for him.
If you knew him, you know.

We all had a home with him.
If you were in need, you were needed.

The ground beef?
Just the right amount of chuck.
A bit of beef fat.
Then, the secret ingredient.
This was then mixed and ground,
And wrapped,
By hand.

How many people did he help?
How many second chances did he give?
How many people did he choose to love that didn’t show him love?
How many people did he teach?

That is the thing.
This is what he did.

Have you heard of a bodhisattva?
It’s a folklorish figure.
A person who is able to reach nirvana,
But delays doing so,
Out of compassion,
In order to save suffering beings.

They’re hard to see sometimes.
They disguise themselves.

Not knowingly…

They wouldn’t tell you that’s what they are,
Because they wouldn’t see themselves as that.

They are the humanitarian who never uses the word.
They are the leader on their hands and knees,
With dirt under their fingernails,
And calluses on their hands.
Their pockets inside out.

What he touched, he made better.
If he touched you, you’re better because of it.

I wish I could tell you a story.
He did something for someone,
Just weeks before he died.

They will never know.
Nor would they ever suspect.
An act of remarkable compassion.

His final lesson to me.

His path to peace was to build you up.
His path to reconciliation was to pick you up.
His path to resolution was resolve.