Some More Sunday Morning Worship...

A friend of mine sent the following to me the other day. The author is a friend of hers and she wanted to pass his message along. "Like most of you Linda and I live on a nice middle class street with nice middle class people. Our neighbors are nice and try to keep their homes and property in good shape. There is and has always been one main offender. The culprit lives two houses away from us. She’s an ageless kind of woman, and has been the object of scorn and ridicule on our street. She’s large and unkempt in her appearance. Her house is an eyesore. There’s wild growth all around, and she does little to keep it up. She’s prone to angry outbursts with little provocation. Kids in the neighborhood are terrified of her. My daughters grew up intimidated by her. Her wrath is easily unleashed if she feels threatened in any way. We all know to keep our cars away from her driveway, or park anywhere near her personal space. On July fourth she displays her own explosions if any fireworks come near her home. The older kids taunt her, and have been known to vandalize her property. They seem to enjoy the predictable show. Oh, by the way, her name is Diane.

"One of the interesting things about Diane is that she always apologizes after her outbursts. Over the years we’ve just learned to live with our crazy lady neighbor. Diane does often wander over to spark friendly conversation with me. I try to be polite, but I really just want her to go away. It’s not my fault she’s large and sloppy looking. Why should I put effort into someone like that? She doesn’t even rake her leaves. We’ve known for over twenty years that she doesn’t live alone in that house. Her mother lives with her. What’s interesting is that no one has ever seen her mother. An ambulance comes by sporadically, but always leaves after a while.

"Several weeks ago Diane rang our door bell. It was Linda’s turn to answer, and my turn to hide behind the door. Linda asked her what she wanted. She came over to tell us her mother died that morning. Linda and I were both frozen. When our mother’s died we never gave a thought to Diane. She was far from our radar. She needed what anyone would need at a time like that, but she came to our house. We hugged her and asked her in. I learned more about Diane that night then I had in the twenty plus years she’d been our neighbor.

"Diane was adopted as an infant, but when her parents realized she was impaired they shunned her. She learned early in life that there was no one she could count on but herself. She’s never felt cared for or loved by anyone. When her mother got ill Diane was the only one to take care of her. The other siblings simply didn’t have time. What I then learned astounded me. Diane had little education, but had worked three low paying jobs to pay off the mortgage on the house. She still managed to take her bed ridden mother for dialysis treatments. Hours before she died her mother told Diane she loved her. That’s the only time she heard those words from her mother. Her eyes lit up when she proudly told us she felt pretty accomplished for a person with a learning disability and brain damage. The light went off in my head. She was brain damaged; the outbursts now made sense. It was the first time I saw animation in her eyes. They were also blue and pretty. Days later she brought me the eulogy she spent hours working on.

"Diane challenged my perception of myself as a person committed to acts of kindness. Maybe that’s because it’s easy to hold the door open for someone, or help someone who falls in front of you. The real acts require a sacrifice. I might have to stop what I’m doing and really pay attention. I might have to let go of my mood and think of someone else. I might also have to open my eyes. Diane has touched me, and I’m grateful to her. She brought home my obligation as a real human being."

His story certainly struck a cord in me and is a great reminder that unless we take the time to find out, we have NO IDEA what someone has gone through, or what they're going through... And even then, we'll only have a clue.

So, I guess what I'm thinking this morning for a little "Sunday Worship" is to honor ourselves and each other.

To reach...

for the stars in compassion and empathy. Not because we "should", but because we can. And when I say "stars", I'm referring to one another... We're the ones making up the constellations in the sky I'm thinking of...

We're capable of great things, you and I and us. Of great love... And we don't even have to speak in order to convey that... Actually, it's probably better we keep our voice to a minimum and listen tenfold.

And I happen to think that's worth a little bit of "worship", a little bit of reverence, a little bit of reflection.

I know I'm not perfect. And I know that I'll stumble. But for right now, I'm going to try.

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