They were near my age.
Loving, sweetly affectionate, comfortable with each other.
Their young son switched whose lap he sat in.
They ate ballpark snacks.
They dressed like you and me.
They watched the game and laughed together.
Somehow, these strangers' lives drew me in and I began to wonder about them, wishing I could sit down next to them and have a conversation. Connect on a deeper level.
Why?
He was quadriplegic and in a wheelchair, she had functioning in her limbs and served as his hands, arms.
She raised the food to his mouth for him eat, held the cup for him drink; she grabbed the concessions, she helped guide his chair through the crowds.
The whole time, they laughed, they encouraged, they chatted.
Their boy sat in his lap, his daddy's arm around him.
The man's arm sometimes gently around her shoulder.
I just really appreciated them. I enjoyed them. Their devotion, their relationship. At least from what I could see outwardly. A peace, an energy. Life. It was so attractive. Their difficulties and the obvious needs between them didn't overshadow or draw attention. It was their love.
As we left, they were a few steps ahead of us. It was a packed crowd, but still we remained steadily paced behind them. I felt a nudging to talk to them, to smile. To tell them how much I appreciated their family's interactions between each other. Their positive, loving gazes, conversations, touches. I hesitated: how would a stranger take another stranger's words? Yet I felt that longing to connect. To bless with encouragement.
Torn: risk or keep silent.
I've gotten better as I've gotten older. More bold, more assertive. More open and friendly.
Sometimes too much? Uncomfortable to others? Asking questions that are too personal? I care so much. I know there are "lines" and "boundaries", but I just wonder and care and long to hear stories. Real stories. Transparency.
Back to the story...
We continued next to that couple as we left the stadium. I smiled. She smiled back. The crowd pushed along. I chickened out. I said nothing. Even seconds after the opportunity was lost, my gut felt heavy and I felt I'd missed a chance.
To risk in order to possibly bless.
To give in order to possibly bless.
The possibility of blessing? (What is better...)
And I missed that chance.
Years ago I heard a woman from my church, Jean, telling a story.
About how she planned to write a letter to another lady who needed encouragement, who had been hurting. But time passed. And Jean never wrote the letter. Time passed. The hurting lady did receive a letter from someone entirely different. Eventually Jean heard from that lady how much the received letter meant to her. How much those woman's words met a need, filled a void with love and warmth. And Jean missed the chance. She didn't get to be the giver of a blessing. And still today, she regrets. But, she learned. When an instinct hits, when an idea stirs: Act.
How often I can relate to this. Can you?
Desire to do, but then life passes.
Maybe it is not always our time, our job, our responsibility.
But, how often do we miss out?
I did not risk the chance to perhaps make them smile, feel valued, experience unexpected blessing.
And I wish I would have spoken.
"Why do I blow everything, again and again?
Will I ever be who I already am in Christ?
...I don't know where time goes. Why do I obliviously slam the holy moments with frustration? Why resist the sacred beauty that falls unannounced?"
(Ann Voskamp)
I want to grow.
Grow fruit.
Mature.
Beautify.
To glorify my God, my Creator. To live each day with purpose, to bless.
That calling.
"Do you remember when I said, “Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for Me?” (Matt. 25:40) “And if anyone gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones who is my disciple, truly I tell you, that person will certainly not lose their reward?” (Matt. 10:42)
Do you not see it here Child?
All these days you live at home to serve this fragile child,
what you really are doing is serving Me. For whatever you do unto her, you do unto Me.
So let me ask you? Am I enough?
What is My worth to you? In the secret places, where no one sees?
Look deeper Dear One. Can you find Me in this place? In her face?
Every diaper, every clean, dry pair of clothes, cups of water, Cheerios, all the laughter, every tear, each soothing whisper in her ear, soothe Me with your lullaby. In doing so, you so clothe Me, feed Me, hear My cry."
(http://barrentobeautiful.wordpress.com/2014/05/23/am-i-enough/)
Let us go and bless others. Strangers. Friends.
Who are you thinking of today...?
Blessings to YOU,
Elizabeth
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