I got an email yesterday from a long-time friend/supporter that I only know through the electronic world. Electronically, she’s a dear, sweet person. She started off her note by telling me how she couldn’t do what I do, and that if the Lord had called her she would have just argued with Him until He went away. I tried that, Sweet Sister. Doesn’t work.
We’ve had an uneventful Sunday around here. Church this morning. My blood sugar did That Thing again, the one where I end up lying on the floor in a storage room in the church basement sweating and shaking and sick to my stomach with the black parts around the edge of my vision, until all of a sudden it’s over and I’m fine again. I have no idea what causes it, and I don’t know how to fix it, and my doctor has no idea what is causing it, so he doesn’t know how to fix it either. *Sigh* After church we went to lunch with good friends and talked about the Olympics. We laughed about the laughy parts and as a collective group tried to figure out curling. We finally decided that it’s shuffleboard on ice. We have a shared love for snowboarding (the watching, not the doing) and skiing. After lunch we came home and I put my pajama pants on, and my hoodie, and declared to anyone who cared that I wasn’t leaving the house again today. It could catch fire and I would probably just sit on the couch and fiddle. (Kudos if you get the joke.)
My friend in the email mentioned that she couldn’t do what I do. But she could, I think. See, we are pretty normal, and pretty boring down here. At least I think we are. Dan gets up each morning and goes to work. Patrick and I do his schoolwork in the morning and then pretty much nothing in the afternoon, because my body despises the altitude that I live at and runs me out of energy by noon. The cool part of our lives is that we get to help people. There are all kinds of amazing things happening here. Women are being rescued from the sex industry and given a new hope. We are teaching women who work in a garbage dump how to sew and make beautiful things and earn an income to support their families so that they don’t have to work in the dump anymore someday. Not today, but someday. Babies get fed and rocked and loved on, and they are safe and cared for and their mommas and daddies can go to work and not worry about them. Kiddos get after school tutoring to help improve their grades and their self esteem, all in one shot. They get to stay at our After School Program until their parents get off of work, and be kids, instead of having to go home and care for younger siblings, or run the streets and get into heaven-knows-what.
There is more. Much more. And we get to be a part of it. Us, with our boring existence. We get to be a part of all of this stuff. God uses us, boring as we are. When people tell me that they couldn’t do what I do, it makes me feel a little funny, because I’m nothing special. Alone and on my own, I would just continue to do The Things. You know, like falling off of my back step and ending up with a bruise the size of Columbus on my leg. Or ignoring the laundry until it becomes an entity all it’s own, with a pulse and stuff. I swear I’ve seen it crawling across the floor toward the washing machine. We eat too much take-out, although I’m trying to fix that. We watch too much TV and Patrick spends too much time on the computer (although in my defense, his schoolwork is 90% computer based, but still…)
What we do–what I do–is only happening because God is right there, in it, making it happen. My job is to try and get out of His way, and if something amazing happens, to make sure that people know that it’s ALL. HIM. Because seriously, people. This amazing, crazy, boring, exciting life…is all Him. And I wouldn’t want it any other way.
“There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.”
― Albert Einstein