woe is me

When bad things happen, how do we respond?  With a woe-is-me attitude?  Believing, alas, that we are the victim?  Or what if we really are the victim?  … do we get angry?  … indignant?  … or an emboldened “it’s me against the world” mentality?

 

Truthfully, I can understand that.  I just don’t think it’s typically the wisest mentality to cling to so closely.

 

Note the freeing, contagious example of Michelle Knight…

 

Michelle Knight, 32, is one of the 3 young women who was kidnapped and trapped in Cleveland for the past 10 years.  Her captor, Ariel Castro, reportedly starved and punched Knight until she miscarried during her decade-long ordeal.  She suffered such severe beatings while locked up that she actually may need facial reconstruction surgery.  Make no mistake about it:  she is a victim.

 

(Alas, woe is me.)

 

Yet on Monday, Knight together with her kidnapped companions, Amanda Berry and Gina DeJesus, released a video to the public on YouTube.  Knight’s words were striking.  Even more so was the wisdom that shaped and girded her chosen mentality…

 

With her voice at times seemingly frail and faltering, the so-called “victim” still amazingly shared the following:

 

“Thank you everyone for your love, support, and donations, which helped me build a brand new life. I just want everyone to know I’m doing just fine.

 

I may have been through hell and back, but I am strong enough to walk through hell with a smile on my face, and with my head held high and my feet firmly on the ground. Walking hand in hand with my best friend, I will not let the situation define who I am.  I will define the situation.

 

I don’t want to be consumed by hatred.  With that being said, we need to take a leap of faith and know that God is in control.  We have been hurt by people, but we need to rely on God as being the judge.

 

God has a plan for all of us.  The plan that He gave me was to help others that have been in the same situations I have been in, to know that there’s someone out there to lean on and to talk to. I’m in control of my own destiny, with the guidance of God.

 

I have no problem expressing how I feel inside.  Be positive, learn that it’s important to give than to receive.  Thank you for all your prayers.  I’m looking forward to my brand new life. Thank you.”

 

Michelle Knight doesn’t deny nor dismiss the reality of what happened to her.  She also does not blame nor discount the existence of God.  In fact, she incredibly still sees God’s plan — and knows it will still somehow be good.

 

She doesn’t take the law into her own hands.  She hasn’t become indignant.  And she refuses to justify hate.  She won’t give in to the negative.  Knight is positive and hopeful.  And thus, her message is contagiously inspiring… so much more inspiring than any “alas” or “woe is me.”

 

Respectfully,

AR

Zimmerman trial

Currently ongoing in central Florida, George Zimmerman is on trial for 2nd degree murder in the death of Trayvon Martin.  Here are the facts, as told by CNN:

 

Trayvon Benjamin Martin, born February 5, 1995, was a 17-year-old African-American high school student who lived in Miami Gardens, Florida with his mother Sybrina Fulton.  In February 2012, Martin was visiting his father, Tracy Martin, in Sanford, Florida after receiving a ten-day suspension from Krop Senior High School.  The suspension stemmed from the discovery of drug residue in Martin’s book bag.

 

George Michael Zimmerman, born October 5, 1983, was a part-time student at Seminole State College and a neighborhood watch captain at the Retreat at Twin Lakes gated community in Sanford at the time of the shooting.  He is married to Shellie (Dean) Zimmerman and is the son of Robert and Gladys Zimmerman.


February 26, 2012 – George Zimmerman, a neighborhood watch captain in Sanford, Florida, calls 911 to report “a suspicious person” in the neighborhood.  He is instructed not to get out of his SUV or approach the person.  Zimmerman disregards the instructions.  Moments later, neighbors report hearing gunfire.  Zimmerman acknowledges that he shot Martin, claiming it was in self-defense.  In a police report, Officer Timothy Smith writes that Zimmerman was bleeding from the nose and back of the head.

 

Leading up to the physical encounter between the two, Martin talked to his girlfriend, while  Zimmerman talked to a 911 dispatcher…

 

What happened next is a matter of dispute. Martin and Zimmerman were obviously in the middle of it, but no one else saw all that happened.  One witness later told police that “she heard a commotion, which sounded like arguing,” while another mentioned “loud talking.”

 

And on one 911 call, placed by a neighbor, a police sergeant counted one man yelling “help!” or “help me!” 14 times in a span of 38 seconds.

 

Who was yelling?  When the 911 calls were later played back for him and he was asked if they were from his son, an emotional Tracy Martin “quietly responded ‘no’.”  But an FBI analysis, also detailed on Thursday, said it couldn’t be determined whose voice it was due to the “extreme emotional state” of whomever was yelling, a lack of words from which to compare, overlapping voices and “insufficient voice quality” on the recording.

 

Then at the trial last week, each mother of the men involved testified that the desperate voice on the other end of that phone was that of their son…

 

Zimmerman acknowledged shooting Martin but said it was in self-defense.  Attorneys for Martin’s family have accused Zimmerman of racially profiling Martin and shooting him “in cold blood.”

 

Hence, here is our challenge…

 

First, let’s acknowledge that regardless of motive or responsibility, this situation is tragic.  A teenager died.

 

Second, let’s also acknowledge that since only the 2 men were there, only the 2 of them know fully what happened.

 

The challenge?  Martin was an African-American.  Zimmerman is a white Hispanic.  Would this situation be handled the same — by the media, law, and families involved — if the color of Martin and Zimmerman’s skin was the same?

 

Sadly… that’s a great question.

 

Respectfully,

AR

reaction time

I witnessed the wildest thing over the weekend.  Ok, so it wasn’t exactly wild, but the reaction certainly was.  It was one of those moments where you watch life unravel so slowly, it seems — like you see what’s happening, can tell what will happen next, you know it isn’t going to be good, and yet, you can do nothing to stop it.

 

En route to my oldest son’s baseball game, my other 2 sons and I were killing a little time prior to the game’s start.  We had stopped at the local grocer just off the main highway in rush hour traffic.  It was a four lane highway with no median but a shared, center left turn lane.

 

A black sedan was heading north in the actual turn lane, while a smaller 4 door Ford was coming swiftly from the opposite direction, seemingly also looking to turn, but seemingly also indecisive as she was not yet in the shared turn lane.  In other words, both the black sedan and 4 door Ford were wanting to be in the same place at the same time.  With full traffic at a 6 p.m. pace, there was minimal room to maneuver and even less time to make the decision.

 

The driver of the Ford then made the fateful choice to turn in front of the sedan.  Watching from the nearby grocery lot, it was painstakingly clear such was not a wise decision.

 

The crash was both loud and immediate.  The front of the Ford was ripped off in an instant, as auto fluids quickly flooded the freeway.  There seemed little question of whether or not the car was totaled.

 

In that eerie silence after a car crash — when the shock of the unexpected meets the reality of needing to deal with it — the driver’s door opened on the now totaled Ford.  Out jumped a young, shoeless girl — a girl no more than 17/18 years old.  She instantly filled the space of the silence.

 

The young girl sprang out the door, began jumping up and down, waving her arms, screaming.  She was screaming so loud it was the only sound to be heard.  My heart stopped; for a moment I wondered if someone else had accompanied her — and perhaps that person was injured — but such was not the case.  She was alone.

 

The girl continued jumping, continued screaming, and then she proceeded to start running up and down the street… first through that not-to-be-shared center lane… then actually running across the rush hour lanes… then up and down the adjacent sidewalks.   The screams and hysterics continued until the sights and sounds of rush hour traffic resumed and drowned out the air space.  The young teen was hysterical, mad, and possibly also in shock.

 

Let me first say that even as an eyewitness, there is so much I don’t know.  I don’t know if she had insurance or if she was down to her last dollar or if she deceptively took her parents’ vehicle without their knowledge.  Even though I saw the action unfold, I do not know the entire substance of her screams.

 

I thus learned 2 things from the encounter…  First, even an eyewitness is incapable of making all conclusions.  Second, how often (and God bless the young girl…) but how often do we react hysterically to the bad things that happen in our lives, forgetting that so many others have it far worse?  I wonder if sometimes we are so focused on our own experience that we react in an extreme way, forgetting it could be worse… forgetting there’s always much to be thankful for.

 

There’s one more thing I learned this day…  Tough circumstances — scenarios we can’t control — can happen in an instant; hence, we shouldn’t take any day for granted.  If we truly knew that, such perspective would undoubtedly, dramatically affect our reaction.

 

Respectfully,

AR

independence

As fireworks flare across the nation this day, we acknowledge the 4th of July.  We celebrate Independence Day, the day 237 years ago when America declared her intentional independence from the Kingdom of Great Britain.  As infamous patriot, John Adams, penned a day prior:  “… I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated by succeeding generations as the great anniversary festival.  It ought to be commemorated as the day of deliverance, by solemn acts of devotion to God Almighty…”

 

Adams went on to encourage a “solemnization” that included pomp and parade, guns and games, and a serious yet festive acknowledgement.  I wonder what he would think of our country’s celebrations and acknowledgements today.

 

I’m a little stunned, friends.  We claim to cherish our independence, and on one hand, perhaps we do; we also so quickly contradict ourselves.

 

As discussed previously this week, we crave the right to individually discern the path that seems best to us.  But yet so many of us ‘cravers’ still clamor for government to choose the path for another.

 

As a current example, it is no secret that the Intramuralist is not a fan of Obamacare.  After reading the bill, my strong sense was that it’s an economic burden and holds huge potential for future corruption. However, here is a bill that mandates individual behavior.  How does that fit with a country that boldly claims its independence?  The only way the bill pays for those who cannot is to mandate that all pay.  Something within that logic seems to contradict a free, democratic society where we choose our own paths.

 

Even more contradicting, unfortunately, as we examine the heart of the decades old Declaration, is what we are actually acknowledging.

 

The Declaration of Independence was clear.  All men are created equal with certain, unalienable rights “endowed by their Creator.”  God’s presence and reality were never in question and never excused.   God was acknowledged regularly and consistently.

 

And yet today, while again on one hand we wish to choose the path that individually seems best to us, many often want to silence the individual who chooses to credit their Creator.  Friends, if we want to choose our own path, we must allow others to do the same.  That means allowing and respecting those who praise the name of the living God.

 

I shudder when I think of the movement in this land to remove any public acknowledgement of the God of the universe.  I shudder when any judicial branch defers to the man who claims to be offended by God’s name, but fails to consider any offense to God.  Why do we allow the individual choice of some to acknowledge their path, but hypocritically not allow the individual choice of others when God is part of their path?  Have we not seen?  Have we not heard?  How is that free?  How is that an honoring of any declaration of independence?

 

While some will reject the historical scriptures outright, the wise man would be prudent to pay attention.  The ancient scriptures always forecast the demise of the country that no longer credits the Creator.  Bad things happen to countries where men continually forsake God, instead worshipping and accrediting manmade objects and ideals, somehow believing that we are wiser than the divine.  Perhaps better said, too often we act as if we have no need for God.  We give more thought and care to God’s omission than existence. Study history.  Look at the numerous countries which quit acknowledging the God of the universe — and that now no longer exist.

 

Happy Independence Day, friends.  I am apt to believe it should be celebrated…  with pomp and parade…  guns and games… and solemn acts of devotion to God.

 

Respectfully,

AR

hypocrisy?

I’m not exactly certain how to pen today’s post.  It has something to do with hypocrisy.  I can just feel it.  Articulating it and putting it down on so-called cyber paper, however, is a completely different story.

 

As we watch life’s events unfold in recent months, I get a sense that many among us want to be our own deciders of what is good and true and right.  We should be able to choose for ourselves what is right and wrong.  We know best.  We should be allowed to choose what is moral, ethical, and good.

 

There’s much within that thinking that I agree with.  Too many times on this planet we seem to reserve the right to be the convictor of right and wrong within one another.  Last I read, that job has a few more divine requirements than I will ever possess.

 

But I hear a chant that we should be the deciders of what’s individually best for each one of us.  How many times do we hear the calls for independence?  … to make our own choices?

 

In fact, watch each teen as they approach adulthood faster than a speeding bullet.  What do they want arguably more than anything else?  What do they crave — even exhibited by the experimentation phase that so many encounter?  They are learning to decide for themselves what is right and wrong.

 

Yet while on one hand we chant that “yes, we know best,” on the other hand, it seems persons on all sides beg the government to be the moral slapper of the other side, so-to-speak…

 

Tell them… tell them what’s right and wrong!

Make them comply!

That’s it; set up a new law.  Do it!

 

And yet, somewhere in there is where this hypocritical sense comes over me.  We want to be able to choose what’s right or wrong, but we also often cry out for some official aspect of government to tell those who disagree with our stance or activity that they are wrong.

 

Perhaps we cheer on legislation.

Perhaps we amen the Supreme Court… (only when they agree with us, of course.)

 

My point is that we can’t have it both ways.  We can’t say, “I should be able to choose the path that seems right to me,” but then advocate the government dictate the ethical path or standard for someone else.

 

The reality is that we cannot be the convictor of truth in one another.  It’s not our job.  We are not even capable of such.  We are not the director of another’s behavior nor their conscience, nor their inner giver of peace, nor their decider of ethical activity.  If we aren’t that for one another, then government can’t be that either.  We can’t crave the freedom to choose but then ask government to interfere in the choosing for others.

 

I’m not exactly certain how to pen today’s post.  It has something to do with hypocrisy.  I can just feel it.

 

Respectfully,

AR

covering a multitude of sins

“Love covers a multitude of sins.”

 

Wise words, no doubt.  Wise words that most of us seem to believe in.  Love is a virtue.  Love is good and pure and right.  Love “covering sin” makes sense.  We, however, allow far more shallow things than love to “cover sin.”

 

Over the course of the past 2 weeks, we have watched the professional career of one NFL star come to a crashing halt.  New England Patriots tight end, Aaron Hernandez, is currently incarcerated on charges of first degree murder.  11 days ago the body of a “friend” was found only a mile from Hernandez’s home.  Hernandez has been denied bail.

 

As the events ensued and the cameras continued to roll — as for some reason, as a society, we are seemingly incredibly fascinated with every aspect of celebrity — we have learned the following:

 

… that Hernandez received “deferred prosecution” after being arrested following a fight shortly after arriving at the University of Florida in 2007…

… that not too long after the fall fight Hernandez was questioned by police about an early morning Gainesville shooting…

… that Hernandez was at a Boston nightclub last summer when a double homicide occurred…

… that Hernandez is being sued for shooting the eye out of a friend this past February in Miami, upon leaving a local strip club…

… that his multiple tattoos are now being scrutinized for gang identification…

 

While we should be well aware that no verdict of guilt has been rendered, it astounds this semi-humble observer that the above seems only news now.  It is obvious that something far different than love has “covered” Hernandez so-called sins.

 

To date, when Hernandez has run onto the field, the fans have enthusiastically cheered.  He earned All-American honors in college, was named an NFL All Star in only his second professional year, and the contract he signed with the Patriots just last summer was reportedly worth up to $40 million.

 

All that for a man currently incarcerated.

 

Friends, I will never be the thrower of the first or second stone.  The Intramuralist will forever be an encourager of forgiveness and the giver of second, third, and forty-seventh chances.  However, forgiveness and forty-seventh chances do not equate to an ignorance of truth.  They do not equate to a so-called “covering” or blindness in which we no longer wrestle with reality.  There have been multiple activities over Aaron Hernandez’s career which depict a character that doesn’t seem so worthy of cheering when he takes his place on the field.  But yet our sports-crazed loyalties and our societal fascination with celebrity have undoubtedly covered a multitude of sins.

 

It’s why so many overlooked Tiger Wood’s terrible temper because he was such a fantastic golfer — and yes, that temper was readily apparent even before his rampant infidelity.  It’s why so many jumped on the Dallas Cowboys bandwagon when Jimmy Johnson became the head coach, even though he divorced his wife because of coaching.  As he told the Dallas Morning News, the day Johnson was hired, he took his wife to dinner and fired her.  “I told her, ‘I can either be head football coach of the Dallas Cowboys or married to you.  I’ve decided to be head football coach of the Dallas Cowboys.’”  But yet, so many celebrated the new, supposedly successful coach.

 

Yes, love indeed covers a multitude of sins.  Sometimes we allow less virtuous aspects to do the same.

 

Respectfully,

AR

defense of what?

Let’s face it.  This is a tough issue.  What is marriage?

 

I mean it.

 

Where’d it start?

Who ordained it?

What’s the purpose?

 

Contrary to the politicized, popular belief, the gay and lesbian persons in our communities are not any new kind of super-villain.  Contrary, too, to the polar opposite, politicized, popular belief, the evangelicals in our neighborhoods are not holders of hatred and wishers of evil.  The reality is that each is a group of individuals attempting to follow a way that seems right to them.

 

But funny how we work sometimes.  We aren’t always ok with allowing others to seek the way they currently feel is right — especially when that path is the opposite of what we embrace.  So many on all sides (even those who consider themselves highly intelligent) prefer squelching opposing paths and opinion.

 

So where is the conversation?  Can we discuss what marriage is about?

 

The discourse is certainly not being currently held on Facebook or on any social cyber-space site (which in my opinion, may be the final frontier of where arrogance is still both lavishly practiced and praised).  Those one-liner status updates on all sides of the issue are not helping, friends.

 

Where is the conversation?

 

What’s the purpose of marriage?

 

Was it established by the organized church?  If so, then what role does the government play in offering any definition?

 

Also, for those who stand by the historical tradition of one man and one woman united in holy matrimony, where is the respectful conversation regarding how pathetic (sorry, I truly mean no disrespect), but yes, how pathetic some of our heterosexual cultures of marriage have become?  What have we taught and accepted in regard to addiction, adultery, absent fathers, divorce, pornography, etc.?  Yes, some of us have been in some tough situations.  I’m only asking what are we teaching?  And when we teach and encourage, do we do so with a truth and grace applicable to all?

 

Men are called to cherish women; women are called to respect men; it’s wise that we both cherish and respect one another.  But we get angry or hurt and then feel justified in withholding one of those actions.  Then the so-called, damaging ‘crazy cycle’ begins.  That cycle — regardless of gender — also seems to clash with any concept of a God-honoring marriage.

 

Friends, I do not know all the answers.  I know that there are good people on all sides of this debate; many, too, remain somewhere in the middle.  My desire, no less, is to engage in a humble, respect-filled conversation where we quit assuming all who feel differently than us are either ignorant or evil.  Some of the cheers and chants and status one-uppers — while perhaps fun to pen — do not help the conversation… and they do not create positive dialogue.

 

Hence, here’s the question:  what is marriage?  What is worth defending?

 

Perhaps if we started there — with listening and respecting replacing boasting and chastising — we would influence others in a way that not even the Supreme Court can.

 

Respectfully,

AR

the rest of the story

In Sunday’s blog there was one embedded comment that is perhaps relevant in most — maybe all — of the events we examine.  It’s arguably applicable in each of our opinions.  And it’s probably the one aspect that’s hardest for us to admit, especially when our emotions are enflamed.

 

As previously stated:  “None of us know everything; we continually make judgments and build perspective based on limited information.”

 

We continually make judgments based on limited information — although we assume we either know it all — or at least enough to form (and adhere to) an opinion.

 

That means from where we stand, we can’t tell what Paula Deen did or did not say…

We can’t discern the guilt — or innocence — of either George Zimmerman or Trayvon Martin…

We can’t tell if the administration lied about Benghazi… or if the previous administration lied about known weapons of mass destruction…

We truly don’t know if the unfair targeting of conservative groups by the IRS generated from Washington or anywhere near the White House…

We don’t know with certainty if LeBron James is an arrogant or humble winner…

We have no idea if the Justice Dept. is telling the truth — or lying — regarding their motive for identifying reporters as potential criminals in order to secretly spy on them…

We don’t know if the current immigration legislation being crafted is all good or all not (… granted, those senators voting on it would know a little more if they’d actually read the proposed bill)…

 

We don’t know; our information is limited.  That should alter the passion prompting our perspective.

 

Years ago I was involved in a professional situation in which most all who articulated an opinion were seduced by the limited-information lure.  An angry hotel employee of mine had alerted the local papers and television stations, that our staff had unfairly discriminated against him because he was gay.  He told the awaiting microphones that we wanted to fire him because of his sexual preference/orientation.

 

The tapes were rolling; there was much to record.  “Discrimination!” was uttered in some of the shouts.  The employee was passionate and articulate.  He seemed to have a believable story, as yes, it was true that he was gay and also that we planned on terminating his employment.  However believable, it was also incomplete.

 

The information he chose not to share with the media that morn is that in an elegant setting, he began publicly cooking breakfast for our hotel guests wearing Spandex shorts and flip flops, while smoking a cigarette.  When he was asked to exit and don an appropriate uniform, he refused — and instead locked himself in a hotel room.  It was from that room in which he called the local media.

 

Friends, I never felt free to disclose all aspects of that scenario.  While the employee chose not to share the “rest of the story,” so-to-speak, neither did I.  We never made our case to the media.  We never gave them complete information.  Hence, all conclusions made in regard to the fate of our former breakfast cook were based on limited information.

 

What don’t we know?  … about Paula Deen?  Benghazi?  … the IRS, Justice Dept., George Zimmerman, and more?

 

In each of the above — no matter whether we passionately believe or doubt the account shared — our passion is based solely on limited information.  We will most likely never “know the rest of the story.”

 

Respectfully,

AR

oh my

Infamous, celebrity butter connoisseur, Paula Deen — the Paula Deen of the millions of dollars Deen cooking empire — acknowledged the previous use of a racial slur.  On Friday, Deen apologized for “the wrong that I’ve done,” following this week’s admission that she said the “N-word” years ago.  Almost immediately, the Food Network fired her.  The Emmy-winning chef has worked for the Food Network for the past 14 years.

 

Allow us to begin with a few caveats and statements of fact.  First and foremost, none of us know everything; we continually make judgments and build perspective based on limited information.  Second, the name calling was not (at least admitted to be) in public.  And third, the “N-word” is a racial slur that many of all skin colors still reserve the right to say for some reason.  That said…

 

I wonder… (as you knew I would…)

 

How forgiving of a society are we?

When exactly does a person “cross the line”?

When has their debt or wrong choice gone too far?

70 times 7?  When do we legitimately choose to forgive… or to not?

 

Please don’t equate consequence with forgiveness.  Such is a separate topic; there are consequences for poor choices.  Today my question centers around forgiveness… especially as we hear the “aghast’s,” “oh my’s,” and “she should pay” in regard to a Paula Deen.

 

Can we extend forgiveness that far?

 

For many we say they don’t deserve to be forgiven…

 

I’m reminded of the historical king’s account who decided to forgive the monetary debts of his servants.  As he got under way in the squaring up process, one servant was brought before him who had run up a debt of a hundred thousand dollars.  He couldn’t pay up, so the king ordered the man, along with his wife, children, and goods, to be auctioned off at the slave market.  Yes, an awful fate.

 

The poor wretch threw himself at the king’s feet and begged, “Give me a chance and I’ll pay it all back.”  Touched by his plea, the king let him off, actually erasing the debt.

 

The servant was no sooner out of the room when he came upon one of his own peers who owed him only ten dollars.  The servant seized him by the throat and demanded, “Pay up.  Now!”

 

This poor wretch threw himself down and begged, “Give me a chance and I’ll pay it all back,” but he wouldn’t do it.  The original servant had him arrested and put in jail until his debt was paid.  When the other servants saw this going on, they were outraged and brought a detailed report to the king.

 

The king summoned the man and said, “You evil servant!  I forgave your entire debt when you begged me for mercy.  Shouldn’t you be compelled to be merciful to your fellow servant who asked for mercy?”

 

Isn’t that seemingly half our problem?  Even if it’s a poor choice we have also made, we still often hold others to a higher standard than ourselves.  We ask for mercy; yet at the same time, we often withhold it from others.  We withhold mercy.  We refrain from freely offering forgiveness.  “They don’t deserve it!” we are tempted to adamantly reply.  Paula Deen obviously made a poor choice, but the reality is that many among us — including those at the Food Network — have most likely said the exact same thing or something comparable or even worse.  And yet, there is no forgiveness.  There is sadly, seemingly, only more “aghast’s,” “oh my’s,” and “she should pay.”

 

Respectfully,

AR

hospital visits

Yesterday was our annual trek to Children’s Hospital.  While there exist few things I would say everyone should do, regular visits to Children’s would be one of them.  A simple stroll through the hallways quickly puts life in perspective.  As we saw yesterday…

 

Obesity and undernutrition and the inability to walk.

One little girl’s legs who were thinner than my largest toes.

Casts.  IV’s.  Legs, arms, heads… all wrapped up.

Wheelchairs… lots of wheel chairs.

Multiple disabilities… including one adolescent, stationary in her chair, who couldn’t seem to hold her head up… in fact, no limbs looked able to be lifted.

A young boy — maybe 3, 4 — only crying in pain in the hallway.

A new mom, with an obvious desperate countenance — cradling her bundled babe, who seemed too young to don both a face mask an IV…

 

Yes, one trek to Children’s puts life in perspective.  It saps our arrogance.  It erases any thoughts of “why me” or “woe is me.”  It quickly shocks us out of our selfish states and moves us instead to a genuine thoughtfulness of other people…  a genuine compassion — not to be confused with the one who believes they are compassionate, but somehow still justifies disrespect or awful, arrogant rhetoric with the holder of an opposition voice or perspective.  Perhaps my family’s extended time at Children’s Hospital years ago solidified those roots of respect previously sewn.  After all, the Intramuralist comes from an ancestry of strong personalities, including a pastor and a bartender in recent generations.  Hence, we talk about all things — and we talk about them compassionately and respectfully.

 

Several years ago, my youngest son almost lost his life.  We spent 3 weeks in Children’s cardiac ICU ward.  For most of that time, a machine breathed the breaths our son could not.  Josh was born missing a wall in his heart.

 

While I would wish that experience on no one, I also wouldn’t trade it for the world.  It’s times like that — that are so deep, so piercing, and so knowingly out of our control — when you figure out what life’s about.  I remember one nurse who lingered one morn, shortly after Josh’s vitals had significantly deteriorated.  She waited ‘til all others were gone, and then she humbly yet boldly asked, “I don’t get it.  How can you be so calm?”

 

I smiled weakly, with the seemingly few ounces of energy and adrenaline left in my body during those continued days of sleepless nights, responding, “There’s a reason I have the faith that I do.  If I’m not going to hold onto it now, why have it?”  In the weeks that followed, that faith only strengthened, as I have little doubt my family and I had front row seats to one outstanding miracle.  Josh is a healthy, vibrant, incredible young man today.

 

Each year we go back for our annual visit, checking the heart chambers, evaluating any changes in the leakage that will forever be with him.  Once again, yesterday, we were blessed with a positive report.

 

As we were stopped along one hallway, an older teen pulled up near Josh in his motorized chair.  His face and limbs were slightly disfigured, but typical of my Josh, he saw none of that.  Josh simply looked at him, smiled, and enthusiastically said, “Hi!”

 

The teen, who was diligently typing with one finger on the keyboard on his lap — through that amplified keyboard — slowly said, “Can’t complain.  How are you?”  Josh said, “Awesomeness!”  Then Josh asked his name.  With a deliberate reply and an awkward but very cool fist bump, Josh turned and yelled, “Hey, Dad!  Meet Brad.  He can type!”

 

As I said, those visits to Children’s always put life in perspective.

 

Respectfully,

AR