It was sometime in 2004 that I was delivering urine samples for drug screens to the lab. I walked in the wrong door, and went about finding my way to the lab. At some point I walked past a office with an open door and a lady in thte office, bhind her desk, was crying. She was crying the kind of cry when you can't catch you breath and the sinuses are releasing. I didn't know her, so I kept walking.I found where I was supposed to be and after some talking, headed out. On the way out, I made the same mistake in reverse. As I was walking past that office, the lady was still crying. I stood in her office doorway and asked if she was okay. Through her tears she said she was alright. I told her I didn't believe her and I ended up, somehow, sitting across the desk from her and listening to her story of pain and disappointment. sharing with a stranger. I was speechless. Hard to believe. I couldn't think of a single helpful thing to say. I remember kind of praying to myself, "God please! I am not helping here." Then she ran out of tissues. 

I have always carried a bandana. Never paid attention to what color the bandana was that I grabbed each morning on my way to work. This one was purple. As she started to stand up and look some more tissues, I interrupted her process by handing her the purple bandana. She said, "I'll get it back to you." And I said "No, you keep it." And then the words were given to me. I knew exactly what to say. "Keep this bandana and let it remind you of three things: First, purple is the color of royalty. I my way of thinking, you are the child of the creator of the universe. That makes you special, even when you don't feel special. Second, purple is the color of bruises, of hurt. Right now you are hurting. Life isn't being kind to you. And, third, purple is the color of healing.You are going to heal." Lora was struggling with living life on life's terms. She was 5 years clean from IV heroin us and was a sponsor at her home group. She had not relapsed. Lora was bruised on the inside from life. At this time, Lora started crying again. Then she seemed to feel better and gave me a hug. I left and drove back to my office.  

About a month later, same scenario. Only this time I knew where I was going. I was going to walk past her office, but she saw me walking by and called to me. I tried to make a joke out of things again by saying "I don't want to get my bandna back." Lora said, "You can't have it back. I have it hung up on the bulletin board in my apartment. It is the last thing a see every morning as I am leaving for work, and it is the first thing I see when I get home. Every day it reminds me that I am a special person, that I am going to get hurt, and that I am going to heal." Now, who do think was crying?

Something was going on that I was not in control of. Those words weren't my idea. I came to believe the Higher Power wanted me to do something. And, I knew what to do. When I got back to my truck I called by wife and asked her to order some purple bandanas. She ordered 5 dozen the first time. So, for the past 20 years I have been telling the purple bandana story and giving away bandanas, to people I meet, wherever they may be, who look like they could use a little hope and healing. I have wonderful memories of those who have been blessed by such a simple expression of faith, hope, and expectation. No one has been more blessed than me. Get this, in all these years, no one has told me "No, I don't want to hear (from a stranger) about hope and healing.