Eyes
Wide Open
My head is a constant infusion of entangled emotions continuously questioning God’ s plan in the midst of life’s ever changing circumstances. A new move, a new state and new schools only fueled my schizophrenic God consciousness. My kindergartner, Luke, finds joy in everything. If only we could all see life’s circumstances through his playful eyes, I have no doubt world peace would be achieved. Luke woke up his first day of school in great anticipation of riding the school bus. He had previously attended private school, and this had not been an option. I walked him to the stop where he joyfully bounced on greeting each passenger, some might consider people they have never met strangers, not Luke~ they are just future friends. He engaged each person with his contagious exuberance for life. My heart warmed as he waved and blew me a kiss. Greeting him after school was equally as jubilant. He bounded off the bus and into my arms as if we had been apart for months. Luke’s unbridled love and tender soul is like a warm blanket to my sometimes shivering spirit always in question of my usefulness to God. The pattern of walking Luke to and from the school bus each day was quickly established. I was still God about our move, the new school, about being in the desert- literally. I made my best attempt to reach out even through my anxious trepidation. I greeted the other parents at the bus stop, or in this case, grandparents. An elderly man with a gentle smile and a bald head nodded at me with a soul-filled grin. He had a light within him that I was instantaneously drawn to. I tried to engage him in conversation when his grand-daughter quickly interrupted me and told me that he was Armenian and didn’t understand me. I asked her what his name was and she said, “Melko”. I introduced myself and we gently shook hands. Sudden news that the bus would no longer be providing service to our neighborhood was disappointing to Luke but not immobilizing. Budget cuts and proximity issues were sited as the cause, but Luke roles with the punches so he saw my driving him as an opportunity to spend more time together. I escorted him inside the school the first day of our new driving schedule and was immediately startled by the frustrated rantings of an overwhelmed mom. Her child was standing beside her; the little girl’s sad eyes scanned the floor as if looking for an invisible hole to disappear in. Luke immediately greeted her. “Hi Jasmine!” She looked up, her smile returning. They hugged spontaneously. My heart warmed. I recognized that this was Melko’s granddaughter from the bus stop. Standing there we couldn’t help but hear Jasmine’s defeated mom say, “Well I guess she will not be able to attend school since we have no transportation options.” As she whipped around to leave, tears stinging her eyes, she saw me. We had met at the bus stop once when Melko had been ill. I asked if she was okay. She explained that she worked and that she had no way to get Jasmine to school. Her father, Melko had health issues and could not make it the length it would take to walk her to school, especially in the desert heat. I immediately wrote down my phone number and told her that I would be available to take Jasmine to and from school every day. It was absolutely no inconvenience, as I was already taking Luke. She began to cry and hugged me. I got a call later that day and the plans were arranged. Luke and Jasmine would be carpool buddies. Each day Melko would meet me by their driveway where I would pick up and drop off Jasmine. In his broken English and my almost non-existent Armenian, we would exchange greetings that soon progressed to hugs. I began to anticipate our exchange each day. I would at times bring cookies and Melko would teach us a new Armenian word of the day. I hadn’t yet realized the impact these encounters were making on me. The semester
flew by. Before I knew it, the last day of school was upon us. I
drove Jasmine home to find the comforting familiarity of Melko waiting
for us by their drive way. As Jasmine exited the vehicle I put the
car in park so I could say our summer goodbye’s. Melko reached
out to me and drew me in close with a tight embrace which I immediately
returned with the same tenderness. When we finally released, I saw
that tears were soaking his cheeks. He held both of my hand in his,
looked toward me and with his tear stained eyes and broken English
said, “Thank you, Loves you, God with you.” Tears now
pooled my eyes, as I repeated back the few Armenian words he had
taught me that I had been able to retain, and then said “God
with you too!” He kissed me on both of my cheeks, one, then
the other, and I returned the sentiment. As we drove away watching
Melko and Jasmine waving goodbye in our rearview mirror, I was again
overwhelmed with the amazing, beauty of God’s plan and thankful
for the patience He has with me even as I question Him. I realized
that without our move we never would have met these nice people.
Without the buses demise, we never would have had the opportunity
for the relationship that ensued. I could have easily missed out
on a life impacting exchange had God not allowed my EYES to be WIDE
OPEN.
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"With
Arms Wide Open" Well I just
heard the news today With arms wide
open Well I don't
know if I'm ready With arms wide
open [Guitar Break] If I had just
one wish With arms wide
open |
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My Brother’s Keeper I was running
yesterday, listening to Christian Radio (Yes, they have Christian
Radio in As I was panting in the desert heat (116- at noon), a song came on that immediately stirred my soul. The late Rich Mullins melody- My Brother’s Keeper. The symbolic message related in every way to my passion – To Wash One Another’s Feet. The song speaks of not judging, but loving, of not expecting perfection, but relishing in forgiveness. The song especially resonated with me the authenticy of true love in that we don’t judge someone by their strength or their weakness, but rather love them as they are… human with a spiritual soul. Most of us are not saints; we all sin, even if it is the self- righteous condemnation of our Brothers. Anytime we judge, we take the focus off compassion. Thankfully Jesus taught us about true love and forgiveness. The kind that is continuous- 70 x 7. The kind that washes feet; the kind that empowers a friend who has betrayed you with a most important job. That kind of love says, I not only forgive you, I give to you. Again, not because we are good enough, or deserve it, or earned it, only that He loves us like that and he continuously forgives us! Thank you Mr. Mullins for your loving reminder from heaven, encouraging us to be our Brother’s Keeper every day, in all our relationships, and all that encompasses. |
My Brother’s Keeper
And I will be
my brother's keeper Now this roof
has got a few missing shingles And I will be
my brother's keeper I will be my brother's
keeper |
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Weighing
in on Competition As I watched two of my friends in a vicious game of ping pong, I became curious as to what motivated their fierce competitive spirit. Both had unbelievable focus, drive, determination, and a great passion to annihilate the other person. Many can relate to having ‘‘a competitive spirit”. My grandfather always said, “It doesn’t matter if you win or lose… until you lose!” I wonder what it is about competition that motivates us? Is it the challenge of the human spirit? The adrenaline that accompanies the victory? The excellence of performing to the best of our abilities? Or maybe a combination thereof? In my reflection, I questioned, “Is all competition beneficial?” When considering the workplace, it seems apparent that when employers pit their employee’s against one another in a ‘spirit of competition’ , unwanted tension can emerge. Instead of enhancing performance, hard feelings and a demoralization of morale ensue. Might there be a better way to motivate? Today, many television programs are created with the ‘spirit’ of competition. One such show is called The Biggest Loser. The participants compete with each other to see who can lose the most weight. The popularity of The Biggest Loser has birthed local imitations of the show. One such group emerged at our church. Should a church bulletin really host a ‘Biggest Loser’ campaign? Now, the biggest sinner campaign I can see! One member shared her unexpected results of the contest, and it wasn’t unwanted pounds. She confessed that what she lost was a sense of self love and community support. The so-called healthy spirit of competition became a way for her to berate herself. The initial hope of attaining group support instead turned into a vehicle to compare her perceived failures against others’ so called successes. She questioned her own will, determination, and self-discipline wondering why she seemed to be unable to attain the goal. It led to a spiral of self-deprecating thoughts and ultimately depression. She definitely felt like she was losing, just not in the way she had hoped. She also felt guilty for not being able to fully celebrate the others’ success, because she was simply in too much pain. She thought of herself as a failure in comparison to their achievements. She began to dread going to church, and slowly she began to miss. Perhaps there is more to lose in such competition than weight. Perhaps what we need to do is expand
the definition of winning as well as what truly is a healthy ‘spirit
of competition’. The definition of victory can be broadened
to include room at the top for more than just one; A ‘spirit’
where the ‘you’ and ‘me’ is replaced by
‘we’. It’s worth contemplating when we consider
the initial question; “What have we got to lose?” |
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