Mr. Monk was an incomplete man. There were huge holes in his life around which he needed to circumnavigate. While others were into sports, such pastimes completely passed him by. Much of what drove the ordinary people with whom he came in contact was completely absent in Mr. Monk. His character was written and performed in such a way that he came across as a lovable yet mysterious person. It was easy to forgive his foibles and missteps because he had a savant’s ability to peer into corners of life that were dark to everyone else.

I attended a Hollywood event in which both “Monk” and Third Way Media’s television documentary Shadow Voices were being honored for their positive portrayal of mental disorders in the media. David Hoberman, the co-creator and executive producer of “Monk” was being awarded a Career Achievement Award by the federal government’s Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration. In the short remarks after receiving the award, Mr. Hoberman spoke of dealing with his own experience with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. He managed to find humor and affection within the experience.

But for those living every day of their lives with this common disorder, it is no “Monk” experience. Rather, it can be debilitating and highly disruptive. Living with someone severely afflicted can be exasperating. According to the National Institute for Health, symptoms of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder may include:

1. Excessive devotion to work
2. A feeling of urgency about their actions
3. Expressing anger indirectly, resulting in anxiety or frustration
4. Hording objects of insignificant value
5. Rigidness
6. Lack of generosity
7. Not wanting to allow others to do things
8. Unwilling to show affection
9. Preoccupation with details, rules and lists

From this list, you can deduce that many who go places in life may suffer from some of these behaviors. In my experience, people who become managers and business owners may exhibit more than one or two such behaviors. A touch of obsessive compulsive behavior may focus the mind in unique ways. But when the symptoms become severe life starts to unravel. Relationships dissolve. Normal functioning becomes impossible.

It’s important to recognize these behaviors. Doing so can help us realize that someone we thought was just being stubborn or aloof or a workaholic is doing so not by choice but as a result of their malady. Our judgments of such persons should take into account the difficulty of living with such a disorder.

After all, God COULD have created all of us without Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. But the great giver of life chose not to. It is up to us to embrace and walk with those who think different thoughts than we do.

I’ve watched Jerome Lawrence, featured in this week’s program, paint. As he views the canvass with his fingers dipping into the paint, he turns his head one way, then the other, and slowly but resolutely applies the next component of the composition. It is clear that he sees a version of the painting in his mind even while the canvas is blank. Once fixed in his mind, he merely needs to place the colors and shapes in their relative positions. It’s a gift that I envy.

But as I interview him, he also speaks of the difficulty of sorting out the voices he constantly hears – voices that warp reality into frightening, unfamiliar experiences. Separating illusion from reality when both are based on common events is the most difficult thing Jerome does each day.

Fortunately, painting pushes the voices into the background for a time. Concentrating on his palette and the canvas provides some small relief. So painting becomes a way of coping.

Jerome’s paintings display something of the same resoluteness as do Van Gogh’s. No indecision. Just strong strokes that evoke strong emotions.

Somehow, the ability to see reality in unusual ways that speak powerfully seems often to birth from minds that are wired a bit differently. Isn’t it wonderful? What a gift God has given us in the form of people who see the world differently. It’s time we embrace their differentness.

Nebraska. Beef capital of the country. Known for Herefords and Angus beef cattle raised both on grass in the Sandhills, and in feedlots throughout the remainder of the state.

Nebraskans love their beef. In the 1980’s it was the staple of nearly every restaurant.

As we traveled the state doing television programs for clients, it was hard to find a restaurant that served much of anything a vegetarian could eat. At one buffet-style restaurant my employee was reduced to begging for the greens that surrounded the food choices. She was denied. That was garnish, she was told, and was not something one would want to eat.

If one travels to the centers of beef production in the state today, one still finds it difficult to be a vegetarian, let alone a vegan.

In this week’s Shaping Families radio program, Valerie equates her veganism with her religious beliefs. Using the world’s scarce resources to nurture the inefficient production of meat and other edible animal products doesn’t square with her desire to live at peace with all of God’s creation. It’s a choice I respect.

To successfully go against something that is so deeply engrained in the food culture of the society, one almost has to spiritualize choices such as veganism. If you don’t, you get pulled back into the mainstream. It’s the strength that religious convictions convey that allows one to persevere in the face of obstacles.

Today my former employee is very much into healthy eating. And it shows. Through her diet she has controlled her weight. She feels great. She exudes an abundance of creative energy. And after a stint in the East, she is back in the Mid-West where healthy eating and living are gaining momentum.

I know I’d be better off if I could bring myself to give up meat. Somehow, I haven’t been successful at spiritualizing my food choices in the same way as Valerie.

But I have come to appreciate the choices of those who have.

In our world, these have to be some of the scariest words we ever hear. Cancer has come to symbolize our greatest fears. A by-product, it often seems, of our modern conveniences, chemicals and lifestyle. Live long enough, and the chances are pretty good that you’ll hear some medical person somewhere say these words to you.

One of God’s gifts to us is that we all have the capacity to deal with much tougher issues than we think we can. When cancer strikes, or any other mishap or disease for that matter, we learn to adapt and eventually come to grips with the new reality we face. It usually takes some time. Friends and loved ones can smooth the way a bit. But ultimately we recognize that we can adapt and come to appreciate the days and weeks we are given here on earth.

My grandmother died of cancer. She loved life, and her gentle spirit permeated all her relationships. When she died, she left a very large hole in the extended family. For her, the most difficult thing she experienced was not being able to see the younger great grandchildren arrive at maturity. “Leaving the young ones is the hardest,” she would say.

Getting a diagnosis of terminal cancer is simply moving up the date of final reckoning. We of course all know we are living terminal lives. But somehow we fail too often to fully appreciate the beauty around us, the joy of existence, the miracle of close relationships, or even the sorrow of heartbreak that leads to recalibrating our lives. Moving the final date forward somehow causes us to change the focus of our lives. Priorities have a way of becoming completely realigned.

In this week’s Shaping Families radio program, I am inspired by Laura Jaynes’ ability to recognize that a diagnosis of terminal cancer was just another bump in life’s journey — that it did not preclude her from being an effective mother and wife. That even with such a diagnosis others needed her, and she needed them. And the cloud of cancer didn’t control every event in her life.