This is the charming welcome sign to the left of the entrance to the Mother House

Thanks for tuning in this past week for excerpts based on my recent Servant Leadership article “Lessons Learned from Mother Teresa.”

Funny as the way life goes, I had many great blogging ideas this week (seems to always be the case in the rare event that I’ve got a weeks worth of entries already considered). Thanks to all of you who have emailed me during the week about this series. I’ve added an audio clip at the end that summarizes a bit of my experience and a special memory from spending time with the “Missionaries of Charity.”

Here’s the PDF version of the full article (Lessons Learned from Mother Teresa), or here’s a link to the web-based article on the DSN website. 

Click here to read the full article.

And as a final sign off to this series, I’m including an audio clip from my last day at the Mother House. It just gives a glimpse into what it’s like there; after an early AM breakfast each day one of the Sisters leads the group in a Catholic Prayer (incidentally, I’m not Catholic–nor were many of the other volunteers).

Then, before sending us all off for the day, they sing two songs. Every single day, the exact same songs. 

The first is more like another prayer but with some voice behind it. The second is sung to all of the volunteers who are on their last day of service. 

Along side me each morning were newfound friends who were atheists, agnostics, protestants, buddhists, hindu’s, spiritualists, and many others beliefs. Yet, without exception, they all enjoyed this time together (though not all sang along). I’m not even sure I totally understand why so many people liked this–perhaps it was being and feeling part of community, even if some didn’t believe in the same God as did the Sisters. But it’s still a favorite memory for me as well. 

So before you continue–my word of caution: the song contains the word “Jesus.” A few times.  So if you don’t dig the word, or if it might offend you, just don’t press play.

There are really two reasons that draw me to post the clip: 

1. It was for many the volunteers a favorite moment of the day and it’s a condensed sound bite that gives a glimpse into the “Mother House” every morning at 7:30am.

2. It’s an example of how many people from different backgrounds can come together for a united purpose of service, and even sing and share together yet by still holding onto starkly different beliefs. 

The guy on the right was driving a motorcycle and slammed the breaks to insist on posing for a picture. One of the best parts of India is meeting the people and experiencing their joy and perspective.

The following post is part of my weeklong series “Lessons Learned from Mother Teresa” (read that post first). This excerpt is part three, the final component, of the Direct Selling News article from March. I’ll post the full article and link this weekend. 

“Do not wait for leaders; do it alone, person to person.”

                                                                                                -Mother Teresa

During my first and second visits, I had a near identical experience and awakening. I remember walking to the Home of the Sick and Dying, through a part of town called Kalighat (which is also home to a very popular Hindu temple).

This is the road to the Home of Sick/Dying, also to the Kali temple. Here there was much security (due to the bombings weeks before in Mumbai) coupled with vendors lining the streets as well as thousands of homeless.

As I was walked I saw thousands of people on the street. Thousands. Babies, literally newborn infants, sleeping on dirt streets with nothing.

Begging children who were blind, as a result of unspeakable horrors inflicted upon them intentionally by adults in an attempt to amplify their appeals for help.

Innumerable bodies that were frail and physically afflicted with — at best — malnourishment, and — at worst — deadly diseases without any source of healthcare assistance.

As I continued to walk, the sights and sounds became more stirring, and my soul became emotionally discouraged. I felt a sense of helplessness and hopelessness I’ve rarely experienced. In the past, I always felt in most situations that I had a sense of control or an impact-based solution. In this case, the further I walked, the more I saw, and the deeper the extent of the extreme poverty, I began to feel that there was absolutely nothing that I could meaningfully contribute.

This is one of my favorite pictures even though it's so simple. It's the entrance to the Home of Sick and Dying, which is an overwhelming sensory experience that I can't fully express--sights, sounds, smells, touch. It is overpowering. Yet calming. I can't explain it. And this is one of the first things you see as you walk in, and this image has so many metaphorical and literal connections to the Home and India that I love it (some of which would require a longer explanation)

Yet, when I walked through the doors of the Home of the Sick and Dying, I saw 65 men lying there — whose lives, at that moment, I could impact. I remember Mother Teresa saying “Just one, even if you can help just one…” It was with this memory of her voice, coupled with the experience, which led me to understand during my time with the Missionaries of Charity that you’ll make a difference by helping just one person.

This was a profound idea for me as I came home. Many problems around the world, in my country, and even in my local community are not easily fixable. But what I clearly realized is that there’s no reason why I can’t have an impact on that one person who is out there, that needs a voice, a friend, an ear, some time, or a meal.

And most likely, what they really need is love.

This is the hospice inside of the Home, it's both dreary and bright; dreadful and beautiful; dark and light. It's a world of complete contrasts, and I found my time there to actually be calming, rewarding, and deep--something I remember from my last trip a decade ago

There exists no rational reason why I, as a human being who has been given so much, can’t simply take another few steps to help that one person who needs it most – regardless of whether that circumstance exists in my company, field organization, church, family, or community. Or, simply, a random person in the path right in front of me.

What I learned about real, undying, and unyielding acts of service from Mother Teresa were shared with me by herself in the 90’s, and re-stated this most recent trip by Father Abello, a priest involved in her cause who to this day—after many decades—spends time with the volunteers on a regular basis.

She shared with me and a few of the volunteers the following observations.

“You’re welcome here for two reasons”, she began.

“One, is the witness you can share. You come from a place that those staying at the Home of the Sick and Dying view as heaven. And, they feel they’re living in hell. So when you come from your heaven, to invest time and love with them in their hell, they must ask themselves the question ‘why would someone do this for me?’, when the world views them as worthless. The person that asks that question dies a very different death than the person who never gets to ask themselves that question.”

She continued, thoughtfully. 

“Two, you are welcome here because of the change that you can become. You are going back home to a place that we all know is not heaven; in fact, your people suffer as much of the loneliness and hopelessness as anybody. If this will make you a better person, help you find purpose, then you will have benefited tremendously, and you will have received a gift as a result of your service.”

As I flew the long journey home from too short a stay in Kolkata, I realized the impact of Mother Teresa’s words.

Ultimately, there are two gifts—what we give and what we receive—which comprise some of the characteristics of Servant Leadership. Often, we describe it in seemingly sterile adjectives or simple nuances like “be nice to your spouse” or “tell the truth”, important yet basic fundamentals that hardly address “Servant Leadership.” During this last trip I learned from the Sisters at the Missionaries of Charity and other volunteers there’s a much deeper meaning to a spirit of Service.

The opportunity we have to take small steps can change the world. We make an impact by sharing compassion and love — particularly with those who need it the most, and often these are the very ones who can’t or won’t reciprocate. It is therefore beyond just virtuosity, some would say its vital, that we support and nurture a culture where the dignity and respect of every individual — regardless of rank, title, money, or stature — is viewed as sacred.

Servant Leadership, I learned, might be a lot of things. And at times we might be tempted to think of Servant Leadership as even a few great things. However, Mother Teresa best summarized what I learned about Servant Leadership:

“There are no great things, only small things done with great love.”

Daya Dan Entrance, one of Mother Teresa's Orphanages for kids with mental or physical disabilities (most have both)

“One of the greatest diseases is to be nobody to anybody.”

-Mother Teresa

The street outside the Daya Dan orphanage

There’s a lifestyle component to our industry that sometimes we feel that we need in order to sell “the opportunity.” There’s nothing wrong with lifestyle; nice homes, comfortable cars, and exotic trips are all part of our industry at various times. There’s a balance, of course, but even Mother Teresa said, “There must be a reason why some people can afford to live well. They must have worked for it. I only feel angry when I see waste.”

But sometimes in our industry and in life, we sometimes border on the worship of lifestyle—corporately, in the field, or personally. This actually serves as a distraction from some of life’s greatest sources of meaning — and ultimately can lead to one of the greatest afflictions that exist: loneliness.

In Kolkata, there were children who were content, happy, and fulfilled. The others, in contrast, were destitute, forgotten, and lonely.

This is my little buddy Mongol's younger sister, she's 12 years old and is undoubtedly one of the best kids I have ever met; so happy, so precious, and sweet.

I’d like to suggest it was food or some cool toys or something more tangible and “fixable” that brightened a child’s disposition, but that just wasn’t so. Those children who were most happy experienced a level of love and attention that made them feel they had value. Worth. Significance. Using Mother Teresa’s expression, they were enjoying “being something to someone.”

Rank advancements, new enrollments, compliance and retention are all vital things. Without them, none of us have a viable and successful business, and independent associates don’t have a meaningful source of income.

Yet, I think we are tempted to look at advancement as the next source of meaning or the step that will spark true contentment. For others the draw might be something material, it might be a title, it might be experiential; but regardless of what “it” is, one thing I was sharply reminded of is that “it” is not the ticket to happiness.

The following post is part of my weeklong series “Lessons Learned from Mother Teresa” (read that post first). This excerpt is part two of the Direct Selling News article from March.  

This is the truck ride on the way to Dispensary duty, with Sister Nathaniel among others. There are a lot of things that aren't well communicated in pictures, but the smell and soot of Kolkata is one of them.

“If you judge people, you have no time to love them.”         -Mother Teresa

When you arrive in Kolkata, despair, more than anything else, greets you. There are an inordinate number of people that live on the streets, and there is an exceptionally difficult amount of poverty to absorb.  From the vantage point of an outsider, poverty—whether in India, North America, or elsewhere makes it relatively easy to pontificate solutions, point fingers at problematic fulcrums, and even become embattled in a bitter debate about political partisanship while sitting safely on the sidelines. I was reminded that it’s much more difficult – emotionally and physically – to actually do something about it.

Each bag represents a months worth of provisions--oil, biscuits, and wheat

Similarly, in other matters of life it’s sometimes hard to listen without making a judgment. Whether it’s financial troubles people are having (“and you bought what!?!?!?”) or leadership problems (“why would you say THAT?”) or emotional baggage (“okay, tell me again what exactly was it that happened at ten years ago that you’re still so rankled about?”), to simply listen, and love someone, is an exceptionally difficult thing for most of us to do. For some, it’s a God-given gift. Yet, I think for most of us, it’s a developing skill that takes effort as we experience both the need and the blessing that can arise from compassion and grace. It also needs to be coupled with honest accountability. Often we’re better with the judgment side of the ledger rather than the grace side — until, that is, it comes to ourselves.

This is the male side of the "Home of the Sick and Dying", essentially a hospice for the sickest of the sick.

Perhaps the greatest impact I experienced from my time at the Home of the Sick and Dying was to see, firsthand, the many patients in the home — some of whom were there as a result of their own circumstances — to be able to live their final days experiencing love and compassion.

Regardless of their past, their poverty, or their personalities, there was no judgment, no critique, no “rehab” program to get them restarted and on a life of significance and meaning. Behind the scenes, never a word was said among the Sisters or volunteers about what it was that led them to this final destination. They were there. It was home, and that’s all that mattered.

In my professional and personal life, there’s an easy carryover of this particular theme. Many people in my life are “home,” and how they got to this place doesn’t really matter.