Turning away
It’s the middle of the night and my little niece is ferociously screaming. I’m thinking again how there are so many grown up people ferociously screaming, it’s just all muffled on the inside and called depression. As the little one misses the Garden of Eden, I’m thinking about how difficult and uncomfortable it must be for a father to hear those fierce cries.
I’m also thinking about a famous son crying out on a cross in order to bring Eden back, and what it must have done to his own father. In time, the son will dry my internal and external tears even though he didn’t have anyone to dry his own. Still, I’m sure the father was up in heaven weeping just the same.
How deep the Father’s love for us
How vast beyond all measure
That He should give His only son
And make a wretch His treasure
The Father turns His face away
As wounds which mar the chosen One,
Bring many sons to glory
Behold the Man upon a cross,
My sin upon His shoulders
Ashamed I hear my mocking voice,
Call out among the scoffers
Why should I gain from His reward?
I cannot give an answer
But this I know with all my heart
His wounds have paid my ransom
Newness of Life
There is always plenty of life at a playground
For the past few years I’ve frequently found myself getting bored with life. I’m getting bored with sports and routines and brushing my teeth and tying my shoelaces. I’m bored with facebook, the Internet, sending resumes to strangers and I’m even tired of watching old Journey music videos on youtube. It seems like when you get older nothing much exciting happens anymore and the only exciting things that happen are bad exciting – like your hair turning gray or falling out and not being able to touch your shins anymore. There is so much more responsibility and so little time for play.
I’ve had the chance to spend a lot of time with my 15 month old niece lately as I search for a job in my new place of residence. I’ve been thinking about how exciting life must be for her. She is learning new words and starting to eat better food like pickles, cookies and ice cream. Everything is new for her and every day is a new adventure. She is taken care of and she goes to the park. She has peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and gets to run around the house in her underwear making funny noises. She gets to sleep a lot and strangers tell her how beautiful she is. When she cries she has people to comfort her and everyone is always trying to get her to flash that beautiful smile. Most of the time, though, she flashes that smile without being prompted. She does this because she is happy.
I find myself staring at her. What is great about staring at her is that, unlike other beautiful girls, I don’t have to worry about her seeing me. As a matter of fact, she is often staring at me back. We are both staring at each other. I am thinking, “what is going on in her brain?” She is thinking, “why is he so big?” I am thinking, “cookies and ice cream”. She is thinking, “cookies and ice cream”.
As we are attempting to figure out what on earth is going on, it dawns on me that this is new for myself as well. I mean, life is not new to me, but seeing new life is new to me. As we get lost in each other’s eyes and speak to each other in a foreign language that neither of us know but we both understand, I’m thinking to myself, “I love this little girl”.
Suddenly, I’ve skipped past the winter of my life and it is springtime. A flower is in bloom on a hillside and a big tree provides shade for a youngster looking for a place to hide. Maybe that is why people start having kids at my age. You realize that big muscles, fast cars and loud music can only take you so far in life and that it is only when you give yourself away that what you’re missing is paradoxically found.
Now, it is like the time when I won a scratch ticket after the March Madness tournament one year. After winning $4 on that ticket, I went from being oblivious to the lottery to noticing every convenience store, vending machine and supermarket that sells those tickets across the globe. This time, though, I’m noticing Mini-Vans and playgrounds and specials on diapers. I’m looking out for playground bullies and making sure she doesn’t bump her head. I’m getting away from my self and finding new life. Maybe responsibility isn’t so bad and each day can still be an adventure.
Thank you God for my little niece.
A poem for my niece
A beautiful night on an autumn eve,
Your heart is full of make believe
But you can’t touch the sky…
There’s a new girl in my life,
Five months old with big little eyes
I don’t live near
But we’ll always be close
And I’m going to see her soon
A smile wide from a mouth real small,
I know your father is standing so tall
He’s finally taller than me
That smile is real, she is too young to fake
So are those tears that keep you awake
A piercing cry rings a bell inside of you
They grow up big and they grow up fast,
But a piece of that child will always last
Trying to figure out what is going on
Looking for a firm place to stand
I can’t put my finger on it
It reaches deep
You have to look
You have to seek
Credit spreads, the discount rate,
Volatility, my tummy aches
Gotta study, gotta learn
This thing will make you crash and burn
It’s never easy, it’s so much work
Just like anything with any real worth
I’m limping through this race…
And crawling to you.
But our God will not slumber
He will not sleep
He helps in trouble
He helps in need
He holds us close
He holds us tight
Though the night is so long
We won’t quit the fight
He knows our pain
He makes us glad
The sorrow is temporary,
It’s the glory that lasts.
Until that day,
When our tears are all dry
When you’ll lift up our heads
As our redemption draws nigh
Until that day,
When we are all done
When our battles are over
And our race has been run
We’ll trust in your goodness
And grow in your grace
We’ll give you our all
You inhabit our praise
And whether we do well
Or fall on our face
We’ll give you the glory
Or trust in your grace
And though we are but dust
You’ve called us by name
You are the Shepherd
In your care we remain
And we’re so dependant on you.
Yeah, we’re so dependant on you…
Help her walk in the truth
And reject all the lies
Give her the faith
She already has your eyes
And when her strength is all gone
And she can’t hold on anymore
Let her fall in your arms
And carry her home
And as she get older
One thing never dies
She will always be
A precious child in your eyes
Jack
He was nonverbal and didn’t have any teeth, but he was still able to communicate. Mentally, he was only 3. Physically, he was 60. He must’ve thought he was over 100 because everytime we celebrated somebody’s birthday, he thought it was his birthday that we were celebrating.
He moved in with our family right around the time I became a teenager. He loved to play sports and I used to rebound for him as he shot hoops with his underhanded style in our driveway. We also played catch with whatever balls were lying around the house. If I didn’t cut things off, he probably would have never stopped playing. He loved to watch football on TV and whenever I asked him who was winning the game, he would say “purple”.
He used to go to church and introduce himself to everybody. When we weren’t looking, he would kiss the ladies. He went to work every day and whenever I asked him what he did there, he would simply say “pull”. He looked forward to receiving his paycheck that was usually no more than $20 for two weeks. I remember one time when he bought me a book with his hard earned money. He was so happy and proud to give me something. Sometimes he had dances with other special needs people and would always find the prettiest girl to slow dance with.
When I went away to college, he used to point at my picture and ask my mother when I was coming home. He was always looking forward to Thanksgiving, Christmas, or camp and always asked when people would be coming home. He was really stubborn when he didn’t get his way and was a world-class pouter. He loved to eat and most of the time he got angry was when he couldn’t have more food or another Coke.
Whenever I came home, he would give me long hugs and not let go. He was always so happy to see me. He used to give me big wet kisses and I’d get slobber and snots all over my clothes when he buried his head in my chest. He had more joy and love than most of the people I have ever met and was living proof that God uses the weak and foolish things of the world to shame the wise.
He loved boats. The last time I saw him, we were at a beach and he was waving at the boats as they passed by. Even though he was really sick and pale, the site of the boats made him so happy. He was about to placed in a group-home because his medical needs were becoming too much to handle.
As we were sitting at the beach, he kept asking me if I would be home for Thanksgiving. He couldn’t wait for that time with the three things he loved most – food, family, and football. Soon, he would be asking me where we would put the Christmas tree. I would ask him what he wants for Christmas and he would answer with the standard, “a book, a hat, a book”. Two books and one hat – it’s what he wanted every year.
I knew he didn’t have much longer to the live, but the phone call today still caught me by surprise. I wish I had a chance for one more time to shoot hoops, one more time poke his big belly and hear him say “cut it out” and one more time to give him a big hug and receive a sloppy kiss. After all those years spending holidays together, things won’t seem right this upcoming season.
I know you won’t be here to receive the gifts, but I’m getting two books and one hat for you, big man, this Christmas. God knows how much I love you, how much joy you brought into my life and how much I already miss you.
Goodbye.
