A Flourish In A Heart

The world is a grand receptacle of hurts and pain. Seven billion people, all accidentally or intentionally walking into, or over, one another. We try to color it any way that we can. We dress it up. We turn from its ugliness and close our eyes. We let our politics prey on our peace and our wars distract us from our differences. Some of us take the world and wrap it up in deep interpretations or insightful contemplations, while others of us simply ignore it entirely and push on. To somewhere. Somewhere other than here. Wherever. Just not here.

Which is why You were created. You with that hope in your heart. You with that deep desire to overcome, to teach us how to knock, how to seek and how to find. You saw with clarity through human eyes blurred with stardust tears. You gave in, but you never gave up. You set an example and then set the heavens in place. When you saw all the hurt and pain you didn't wish it away or even heal it all gone. Instead, you showed us how to share it all, how to carry the burden together and how, eventually, to find the good in life as well. You didn't deny the hardness of life, but you denied us the right to become hard because of it. When hurt, love, you said. When loved, love all the more. When forgiving someone keep forgiving, so much so that you can't even remember what you were forgiving them for in the first place.

Why? Because you knew that human life, like human glory, is fleeting. Only those near the end can properly sum up the regrets for not having more closely paid attention to the journey. You knew that when you came for them, you would have to counsel these regrets away, so you asked us to police our souls better, and to not only stop and smell the roses, but to plant some as well. You were a flourish in a heart that beats behind stars immaculate and innumerable. Incredibly, you asked us to be so as well.

Yes. It's true. You died so that we may have life. But you also died to remind us that the world is a grand and wondrous place, where a hug, a kiss and a dream are but one touch, one caress or one awakening away.

Differences

This past week was a tough one for my son. He found out that, most likely, he's headed for Special Ed math and, in English, he may need to start using what’s called an ALPHA Smart (a sort of laptop keyboard device to help him take notes in class at the same speed as the other students).

The first blow was expected. He has struggled with math for years. His mother and I tackled the issue like we have with just about every other challenge he has faced in his young life: with full immersion and aggressive counter-measures. He’s had a tutor for most of the past two years and, since math is my own Achilles heel, my wife has spent countless evenings and weekends studying with him, trying to get him up and over the hill, all to no avail. He's dodged the words “Special Ed” his entire life. But now, it’s caught up with him and he’s finding the confrontation intimidating.

The second blow was unexpected. English is his strongest subject. He loves to write and is a voracious reader. But the signals from his brain to his hands are just a few milliseconds off, and it’s costing him during test times and with essays. I’ve told him that nowadays hardly anyone in high school and college goes to class without a laptop or IPAD, so being forced to learn how to type on the ALPHA Smart this soon is actually a good thing. But in an area where he;s always shined, being one of the few kids in class who “gets” to pull out a keyboard during class is making him feel somewhat defeated.

I wanted to tell him not to pay any attention to the sideways glances or insensitive comments of the other kids, to instead just pretend they’re not there. I wanted to console him by telling him that no one will really notice anyway or, if they do, they won’t care. But in the William Golding world of 7^th and 8^th grade, I know better, and so does he.

So instead, I shot straight and told him that now is as good a time as any to embrace his differences. It’s a grown up concept, but he’s an old soul anyway. I told him that those things that make him “special needs” are only a smidge different than those things that make him “special…period” as a person, as a young man, as a friend and as a son. I reminded him that God made him just the way he is for both a reason and a purpose. Then, for good measure, I gave him a little dose of Dr. Suess : "Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind.”

Rivalries

We all have passions. Some are valid. Others, I've come to find out, are distractions. One change I had to accept when I became a believer was a complete change in my perspective. The paradigm shifted. I could no longer live in the comfort of my singular, self-centered world view. I now had a new perspective to apply to every area of my life.

Quite frankly? It's a pain in the ass sometimes. I mean, I'm sorry, but I'd rather just jam people into categories as I've defined them and then praise, accept, bash or dismiss them accordingly. It's so much easier than really getting to know them, or listening to their side of things, or feeling the pain of their rejection if we don't see eye to eye. The problem is, somewhere in the midst of all that defining we start to define ourselves, and the definition becomes less and less flattering.

The examples of this paradigm shift in my own life have become quite numerous in the last decade. The young Republican who despised with a deep, deep passion any sort of social programs? He had to come face to face with the reality of becoming financially ruined if not for some of those very same programs which stepped in to help when his son was born with special needs. The man who looked at political liberals as utter and complete idiots would soon discover a cousin who would become like the sister he never had, even though she leans as far to the left as he does to the right. The early Christian with a deep rooted suspicion of Jews and their treatment of Christ would soon run into a rabbi over bagels, and chat at length of matters concerning the human heart. In short, God gave me eyes to see what I'd never seen before: that people are people, with viewpoints, perspectives and ideas that are just as valid as mine, which blossom within hearts that beat just as passionately.

The truth is that there are rivalries within us at all times, between faith and reason, acceptance and rejection, understanding and misunderstanding, hope and despair. When we engage in the negative aspects of these internal struggles we disengage from love and life. What happens next could be described in a number of ways, but in short? We lose.

Jumping Jacks

I was driving down the road this morning when I noticed a group of kindergarten kids in front of their school, perhaps for a special Saturday gathering or a field trip. One girl in particular stood out to me. At 7:45 in the morning, she was doing jumping jacks with abandon, her long blond hair rising and falling, nearly translucent in the morning sun, at its peak a halo, at its depth a canvas for her face and the open smile that was painted thereon.

I was listening to a song on the radio (Alice, by Cocteau Twins) with the windows up, and the moment was encapsulated in music, the melodies of the piano freezing the gears of time itself. I couldn’t hear the little girl, but the vision of her joy was so complete that the rules of the five senses didn't apply. By that I mean that I could see her laughter. I really could. It was a beautiful thing. It reminded me of Sophia, my own little six year old angel back home, whom I’d kissed goodbye on her forehead on my way to get coffee, and the way that she, too, can find joy in most anything, at any time.

As we grow up we seem to lose that penchant for joy, the simpleness of it, the release of it. Instead we become thinkers. We learn contemplation instead of exultation. Psychologically, as we age I think we become the canaries in our own coal mines, instead of the free birds we were meant to be.

I could expound on what I think we should do about this, but why bother? It’s simple really. We just need to remember to do our jumping jacks each day.

I’m going to go do mine right now : ) How ‘bout you?

More Than A Conqueror

"Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? As it is written: 'For your sake we face death all day long, we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.' No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us." - Romans 8:35-37

The whole notion that we are "more than conquerors" sounds a bit foreign, doesn't it? I think that's because most of us go through life feeling mostly defeated, or beaten down, or at a loss somehow.  I mean, if you and I having coffee together what do you think the conversation would turn to after the customary pleasantries were exchanged? Would it be shared stories of how we prevailed or were victorious? Perhaps. More likely, though, we would begin to share our struggles, worries, concerns, and fears.

I'm no theologian, but I did a little research on this passage and it appears that the Greek word used here to say "conqueror" is used in other places in the bible as to "prevail completely over" or as an "overcomer". Regardless, the idea is in being a conqueror once and for all. Not temporarily. Not just for life's particular battles, challenges or struggles here or there (for they will keep on coming, no matter what we do) but over all of them as a whole.

Some non-believers like to criticize believers for thinking they are blessed and better than anyone else, or don't face the same issues as everyone else. Some of this criticism is deserved, especially when believers get the message wrong and advance it too self-righteously. But, the truth is, believers and non-believers alike share many of the same burdens of life. You don't get a free pass on hardships when you walk in faith. If you look closely, you'll see that Jesus didn't either.

The difference is in the hope believers have that, whatever the burden, it will be overcome, if not in this life, then in the next. In this context, every pain is a process. It still hurts. It's still serious business. But it's not ever going to defeat you. Because simply by knowing that it is temporal in nature and by having an eternal perspective on life? You've already won.

Unknown Quotient

"The atheist can't find God for the same reason that a thief can't find a police officer." - Unknown

This week I have twice encountered individuals who don't believe in God. Period. To them life is something to "endure" or "to do your best in" and nothing else. You live. You blink out. There's no need to "make it any more than that". Wow. I mean...it's fascinating.

Ya know, in my politics I am mostly conservative (gasp!) and as much as I say that my liberal friends  baffle me beyond comprehension, that's not really true. I mean...it's politics. At best it's a game of charades, with one party or the other mostly unrecognizable from one generation to the next. Your side wins. My side wins. Nothing gets done regardless (the events of this week pretty much proved that). Politics is temporal and two faced.

But God? God is eternal and of one mind. This whole notion of a cosmos, universe, planet and human existence that is without purpose or meaning is completely and utterly beyond my comprehension. I just can't get my head around this idea, or how anyone could subscribe to it. Creation without a creator? Love as just a chemical romance? A human conscience that is just some sort of synaptic response in the brain? At my core...like WAY deep down...I reject these ideas with prejudice.

Both of these individuals I spoke to ran into a witness this week because, well, I'm tired of not advancing my faith, passionately and without regret. They know I love them. I just can't subscribe to their way of thinking. I keep praying each day that they will arrive at some unknown quotient that allows them to finally include God in their lives.

Because a life of all subtractions and, ultimately, nothing but a zero? That math is just plain sad.

A Visit With Gilbert

"In love he predestined us for adoption through Jesus Christ, according to the purpose of his will." - Ephesians 1:5

I sat the other day with my daughter before a visit with her birth father, Gilbert. This happens each year. I'd like to say I'm mature about it. That I'm grounded and impervious to the emotions that well up inside of me like a hurricane each time this happens. But I'd be a liar. I'd like to say that I don't go through a hundred different ways to avoid the feelings that cascade over me, but anyone who reads this blog knows that I'm not that good at avoiding my feelings. Never have been.

Adoption is an intricate, wonderful and unbelievably mysterious thing. The bible says that all believers are adopted into God's family through Christ Jesus. Anyone with faith knows that it, too, is an intricate, wonderful and unbelievably mysterious thing. So it goes. Be it spiritual adoption or human adoption, both can be beautiful and challenging.

Here's the thing: I'm not very good at it, this whole "sharing" thing. I don't like it one bit. As an only child it's always been about me. I like it when it's about me. Me is good. I know me. Well, at least I think I do. Actually, me is a stranger sometimes too. But I digress. The point is, as an only child, when something is mine, it's mine. You can't have it. Nobody can.

God knew this about me and He knew very well that this way of thinking would poison my soul. You can't worship a man who was nailed to a cross in the ultimate display of self-sacrifice and then live a life of pure and utter selfishness. It just doesn't work that way.

So, a few times each year, here comes another man to spend time with my little girl. Guess what? He has just as much right to see her as I do. He made her. It might have been in the midst of every guys worst nightmare (a one night stand with consequences), but to put it in Italian terms? He's a "stand up" guy. He isn't bailing on her. Man to man, he shows me nothing but respect. More importantly, he's trying to do the right thing...for her. There's a beauty to it. There really is.

And each visit God walks me in and walks me back out and He whispers in my ear, over and over again, lessons of love and sharing. It hurts like you cannot believe but - and here comes the mysterious part - I am utterly thankful for it all.