The TV ad played on as I hurriedly took a sip of my coffee. It is MLK Day and I couldn’t wait to go out in the garage and take advantage of the day off to tackle my once-a-year cleanup. Except…
The picture of the great hero, Martin Luther King, on the TV monitor caught my eye and made me pause. Every single time I see his picture something stirs within me – painful, inspiring, convicting.
My heart aches when I consider the great price this modern-day martyr paid for the cause he so passionately gave his life to: His wife lost her husband. Her little children lost their daddy. A nation lost a great leader.
Thinking about what he could’ve accomplished, if only given the chance to live past 39, makes my head spin. Why is it that some good people are taken from us so early in life?
With the recent tragedy here in Arizona, which shook the whole nation to its core, I asked myself the same question over and over again. Why does God allow these things to happen?
I took another sip of my coffee, a lot more slowly this time.
Jesus’ words recorded on John 12:24 came to mind, “I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds.”
The tragic loss of precious lives – especially young lives, like Jesus, Rev. King and Christina Green, the 9-year-old who wanted to meet Congresswoman Giffords and was shot while waiting her turn to shake her hand – they startle us, like a sharp slap on the ear, and make us think about our own lives and values, what drives us and what’s truly important.
Lives lived well inspire us. But when they cease – so abruptly and in such terrible manner – their passing is like a pebble thrown into a lake, creating ripples that grow bigger and wider until they reach the shore.
The tragedy in Tucson has created such ripple effect, which has reached the hearts of individuals, families, schools, cities, governments, nations…
During his 33 years on this earth, Jesus transformed the world. But His death gave us a chance to experience a new and abundant life.
And Martin Luther King’s voice and message has spoken louder and clearer after death – just like the seed buried on the ground, producing fruit and reproducing far beyond its small self.
Though I don’t understand why, I truly believe that certain things happen for a reason that goes beyond what we humans can comprehend, and that God can transform a great evil and use it for a greater good.
My small tribute today is to share my thoughts with you, dear friends, as we reflect together on the powerful and positive aspects of lives lived well.
Long live their legacy!
Monday, January 17, 2011
Friday, January 7, 2011
While I Waited
I checked my watch one more time. Five-Twenty. Unbelievable! My daughter’s special present – a lovely silver bracelet and a last-minute item in her wish list – was supposed to have been engraved and ready for pick-up an hour ago.
It was Christmas Eve. My husband and kids were waiting in our truck at the mall’s crowded parking lot. They had dropped me off by the main door. Plan was I’d dash in, get the prized gift, text hubby to drive to the curve, dash out as the crowds allowed, hop in the truck, and drive to church for the 5:30 service.
No problem.
Except, when I got to the store I encountered a long line at the un-manned pick up counter. That’s ok, I told myself, we still have time. So I waited, halfway patiently. But as minutes ticked away, shoppers’ once friendly faces turned tight with frustration.
“What is going on?” the pretty blonde ahead of me asked out loud.
“I’ve been here for almost two hours”, someone else demanded.
“Me too!”
“This is ridiculous” said the lady that stood behind me.
My phone began to buzz. “Mom, we’re sick of waiting.” “Are you ever going to get out of there?” “We’re going to be late for church, Ana.” Now, my head was buzzing.
I noticed that my right knee shook unceasingly and that my feet hurt. I was wearing my cute pumps for I wanted to look good for church and for our traditional fancy dinner with friends, after service.
But now it didn’t look like we would make it to church on time, and if we went to the 7:00 service, our dinner plans would be ruined. Thinking about this made me absolutely furious. Why in the world did these people give you a pick up time if they were going to make you wait in line forever?
Finally, a young woman appeared at the counter. “I’m so sorry, everyone,” she apologized, “but one of our engraving machines broke, so we’re running a little behind.” And then, like a teenage child you call to do chores, she magically disappeared.
I saw red. A little! I turned around and asked the lady behind me to save my spot in line. Then I marched to the pick-up counter, stumping my feet and pumping my fists, readying for battle.
Watch it, Ana.
I didn’t want to watch it. I just wanted answers. And I wanted my bracelet. And I wanted it now!
Love is patient. Love is kind.
I knew that. God knew I work hard to keep myself in check when I’m around clients, or my family, or church people. But this particular instance didn’t count. These were extenuating circumstances. An injustice had been committed, and I was soooo tired, having stayed up late the night before, wrapping presents. Besides, I didn’t know a soul at this sorry store, so who cared if I lost it a little.
The young clerk reappeared. “Excuse me!” I yelled, not bothering to hide my irritation as I made my way to the counter.
She turned around, eyes and mouth wide open.
Oh, don’t give me that look! Don’t you know I am the victim here?
“Excuse me!” I repeated, using the same tone. “I need to know when my order will be ready. You guys promised it’d be ready at 4:30, and now I’m going to be late for church!”
The young woman looked at me for a few seconds. I could see weariness in her puffy eyes. She looked at the crowd.
“I know how frustrated you all must be,” she pleaded, “but please remember these are circumstances beyond our control. Our engravers are working as hard as they can to get your orders ready.
“And, ma’am,” she said, turning to look at me, “I’m only a seasonal worker here. There is nothing else I can do. And remember, this is Christmas. We should all be happier and a little more patient with one another.”
“That’s the spirit!” the pretty blonde ahead of me yelled.
“Yeah, you’re right!”
“We can wait! It’s Christmas time!”
Oh, God.
Wishing I could shrivel down to one little prune, I slogged back to my spot in the line. I looked around the store and thought, what if one day I welcome one of these people at my church? Would they remember me – the jerk that harassed that sweet young clerk on Christmas Eve?
I looked down at the floor and quietly asked God for forgiveness, for not heading to His warning to keep my temper in check and for being a lousy example of Christian love. “And, Lord,” I dared asking, “would you mind hurrying my order a bit? I really don’t want to miss service.”
I know. Some things never change.
Imagine my surprise when I heard my name being called from the counter. This time I wore a sheepish smile on my reddened face.
“Thank you," said the clerk. "And, once again, we’re very sorry to’ve made you wait so long.”
I should’ve been the one to apologize, but all I could do was croak a weak, “It’s ok.”
Like I said, some things never change.
Before leaving the store, I stopped by the pretty blonde that once stood ahead of me, and I said, “I want you attitude.”
“Me, too,” she responded jovially, “I’m usually not like this. But it’s Christmas.”
She smiled. I smiled back.
Then I texted Hubby as I swerved passed the hordes of Holiday shoppers, “Meet me at the curve by the Food Court. I’m ready.”
This time, I was.
It was Christmas Eve. My husband and kids were waiting in our truck at the mall’s crowded parking lot. They had dropped me off by the main door. Plan was I’d dash in, get the prized gift, text hubby to drive to the curve, dash out as the crowds allowed, hop in the truck, and drive to church for the 5:30 service.
No problem.
Except, when I got to the store I encountered a long line at the un-manned pick up counter. That’s ok, I told myself, we still have time. So I waited, halfway patiently. But as minutes ticked away, shoppers’ once friendly faces turned tight with frustration.
“What is going on?” the pretty blonde ahead of me asked out loud.
“I’ve been here for almost two hours”, someone else demanded.
“Me too!”
“This is ridiculous” said the lady that stood behind me.
My phone began to buzz. “Mom, we’re sick of waiting.” “Are you ever going to get out of there?” “We’re going to be late for church, Ana.” Now, my head was buzzing.
I noticed that my right knee shook unceasingly and that my feet hurt. I was wearing my cute pumps for I wanted to look good for church and for our traditional fancy dinner with friends, after service.
But now it didn’t look like we would make it to church on time, and if we went to the 7:00 service, our dinner plans would be ruined. Thinking about this made me absolutely furious. Why in the world did these people give you a pick up time if they were going to make you wait in line forever?
Finally, a young woman appeared at the counter. “I’m so sorry, everyone,” she apologized, “but one of our engraving machines broke, so we’re running a little behind.” And then, like a teenage child you call to do chores, she magically disappeared.
I saw red. A little! I turned around and asked the lady behind me to save my spot in line. Then I marched to the pick-up counter, stumping my feet and pumping my fists, readying for battle.
Watch it, Ana.
I didn’t want to watch it. I just wanted answers. And I wanted my bracelet. And I wanted it now!
Love is patient. Love is kind.
I knew that. God knew I work hard to keep myself in check when I’m around clients, or my family, or church people. But this particular instance didn’t count. These were extenuating circumstances. An injustice had been committed, and I was soooo tired, having stayed up late the night before, wrapping presents. Besides, I didn’t know a soul at this sorry store, so who cared if I lost it a little.
The young clerk reappeared. “Excuse me!” I yelled, not bothering to hide my irritation as I made my way to the counter.
She turned around, eyes and mouth wide open.
Oh, don’t give me that look! Don’t you know I am the victim here?
“Excuse me!” I repeated, using the same tone. “I need to know when my order will be ready. You guys promised it’d be ready at 4:30, and now I’m going to be late for church!”
The young woman looked at me for a few seconds. I could see weariness in her puffy eyes. She looked at the crowd.
“I know how frustrated you all must be,” she pleaded, “but please remember these are circumstances beyond our control. Our engravers are working as hard as they can to get your orders ready.
“And, ma’am,” she said, turning to look at me, “I’m only a seasonal worker here. There is nothing else I can do. And remember, this is Christmas. We should all be happier and a little more patient with one another.”
“That’s the spirit!” the pretty blonde ahead of me yelled.
“Yeah, you’re right!”
“We can wait! It’s Christmas time!”
Oh, God.
Wishing I could shrivel down to one little prune, I slogged back to my spot in the line. I looked around the store and thought, what if one day I welcome one of these people at my church? Would they remember me – the jerk that harassed that sweet young clerk on Christmas Eve?
I looked down at the floor and quietly asked God for forgiveness, for not heading to His warning to keep my temper in check and for being a lousy example of Christian love. “And, Lord,” I dared asking, “would you mind hurrying my order a bit? I really don’t want to miss service.”
I know. Some things never change.
Imagine my surprise when I heard my name being called from the counter. This time I wore a sheepish smile on my reddened face.
“Thank you," said the clerk. "And, once again, we’re very sorry to’ve made you wait so long.”
I should’ve been the one to apologize, but all I could do was croak a weak, “It’s ok.”
Like I said, some things never change.
Before leaving the store, I stopped by the pretty blonde that once stood ahead of me, and I said, “I want you attitude.”
“Me, too,” she responded jovially, “I’m usually not like this. But it’s Christmas.”
She smiled. I smiled back.
Then I texted Hubby as I swerved passed the hordes of Holiday shoppers, “Meet me at the curve by the Food Court. I’m ready.”
This time, I was.
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