BIGGER THINGS

Take care of the moments and the years will take care
of themselves. – Maria Edgeworth

Sometimes you’re plodding along caught up in the middle of the work week, eyes on the path immediately before you, when all of a sudden something whacks you upside the head or trips you up or blocks your path, causing you to screech to a halt and spin around trying to orient yourself, suddenly aware of the surrounding landscape. Whoa. How’d I get here? Sometimes you don’t even have to leave your house or get out of your car to realize you aren’t going where you thought you were going.

I had been conversing with my friend, Richard the Sage, attempting to solve the problems of the world (safely removed from most of them at the time) while sipping a café mocha at a bookstore/coffee shop. Properly caffeinated I then met up with Lucy as she ran a few errands. That’s when her phone rang. Next thing I knew we were hurrying to a hospital where her father was being treated in the ER.

Heart trouble.

Metaphorically speaking that malady is running at epidemic levels through the human race, but his is the literal sort of heart trouble that lands you in the hospital.

It was midnight before we got home. Then I was up at 5 getting ready for the radio show and am now back at the hospital hanging out with Jack, tubes and electrodes stuck in and to his person, talking when he wants to talk, just sitting quietly across the room when he doesn’t. He is not happy, but he is looking a little better today. That’s a hopeful sign. One of the medical team just stopped in and Jack’s first words were, “when do I get to go home?” He’s no fan of hospitals. Who is? We don’t check in because we want to.

My father died in a hospital not much different from this one eight years ago. Almost exactly eight years ago. The anniversary of his death was 4 days ago. I still miss him. For me the world will never be quite what it was before that day. Yes, it is filled with wonder and beauty and I am more blessed than I’ve a right to be but still, once he left, it changed, became less than it had been.

So we’re spending another day in the hospital. Where else would I be? My wife is here. She would not be anywhere else right now. She could not be. So why would I be?

Every day of our lives we make decisions about what is important. Everything we are, everything we have been, all the things that have happened to us, who we know, how we’ve been wounded, how we’ve been loved, what we believe; all this comes into play when we make our decisions. What will I do with my life today? How will I treat people? Am I reflecting what I believe?

I’m reading a book by Rob Bell in which he wrote these words: “I’m convinced having compassion is a better way to live.” The book is a story of the search for truth. That can look a lot of different ways, but deep down, everyone believes something. We are all believers. He says everyone is pursuing something. Everyone follows somebody. He is trying to follow Christ. He says it is about compassion, peace, truth telling and generosity.

My friend, Richard the Sage, said to me yesterday (in a paraphrase of something Einstein once said), “When you look at yourself, something inside informs you that there are bigger and better things to think about.”


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