Chips and Cheese

My husband and I snuggled in the other night to watch a movie. We had our feet propped up, our warm blankets draped cozily across us, and our standard fare of tortilla chips, pub cheese, sodas and the remote (of course) lined up just within arms reach. Sheer perfection.

The only thing that came close to dulling the brilliance of the evening was an “issue” I had with the chips. You see, I’m a pretty simple, laid back kind of gal. I’m not picky or fussy or high maintenance when it comes to much of anything, especially chips. But one thing is certain, if I’m having dip with my chips, then I at least expect the chip to fulfill it’s primary function. Kind of like a field goal kicker in football…but don’t get me started on that! It’s just that if you’re going to be known as a functional part of something (i.e. “chips and dip”), then is it too much to ask that said chip would actually fulfill that function? Call me crazy. Anyway…I digress.

My ramping frustration came from the fact that every time I reached in to grab a chip and attempted to scoop up some dip, inevitably the chip would break. One would crack here. One would crack there. One that looked absolutely perfect in the bowl completely disintegrated mid-scoop. It was the weirdest thing!

But a funny turn of events happened as we made our way towards the bottom of the chip bowl. The chips that were not whole…the ones that were already broken and fragmented…when bunched together, were able to scoop up far more pub cheese than any of their “perfectly whole” counterparts. Finally, I was able to scoop and munch to my heart’s delight. I was one happy camper.

Then the thought crossed my mind: we’re all just like that big bowl of chips. There are chips that look fantastically put together…whole, complete, without weakness or flaw. All indications are that they can get the job done without the aid of anyone or anything. And yet, all too often, the they fall apart under pressure…finding that their unexposed areas of weakness have done them in, in the end. Then there are those who have been minimized by life’s trials and hardships…nicked and broken and fragile at best…they find themselves at the bottom of the bowl. But when joined with others like them, they become a strong, productive, unified force…able to accomplish far more than any them could achieve on their own.

Truth is, we were created to be in community. We were never intended to be alone. The world is a harsh and oftentimes brutal place. It doesn’t seek forgiveness, and it deals out judgment with a heavy hand. It can very quickly become a cold and empty place should we try to go it alone. But if we allow ourselves to be known for who we truly are…transparent about our broken and fragile state…and if we learn to trust people with the sensitive and sometimes painful things of our authentic selves, then we open the door to the influence of their strength and courage in our own lives.

Designed to be in community. Designed for strength that can only be unleashed when we embrace our own weakness. Designed to do great things for the world, but never completely independent of the world. It’s comforting to know we’re not alone. It’s an even greater comfort to know we’re not the only broken chip in the bowl. And it’s both comforting and humbling to realize that we truly do need each other. Otherwise, we’ll wind up being tossed into the trash can at the end of the night like a bunch of useless crumbs at the bottom of the bowl.

I don’t know about you…but I’ve got a lot more “cheese to scoop” in my life. I want so badly to make a difference and have an impact on this world. Big deal if I find myself at the bottom of the bowl. The way I see it: I’m in excellent company.

INVINCIBLE

Sitting here next to my mother’s hospital bed, I’m not sure whether to lovingly smack her around a bit for not seeking medical help earlier simply because she didn’t want to spoil Thanksgiving OR squeeze her so tight for so long that the blood clots in her heart will be forced out of her body altogether. Conflicted, I’m struck by how it’s always so good to see her, but not like this.

And that thought leaves me vulnerably coming to grips with a raw and irritating truth. My mother is NOT invincible as once thought. She is not indestructible, as she might have considered herself to be. She is not even immortal, as most of us had assumed without even realizing it. It’s just that there has always been her, and I think somewhere along the line we have all taken for granted that there would always be her. Talk to those who know and love her, and you’ll find that they simply can’t imagine life without her. Even if we could, we wouldn’t want to.

If you think me melodramatic, you clearly haven’t met my mother. Let’s just suffice it to say that whoever coined the popular phrase “dynamite comes in small packages” obviously was referring to my mom. It’s as if she were one of those characters on the TV series “Heroes”, and spunkiness was her super power. She doesn’t know the word “quit”, she delivers food to “old people” and she’s always said she’d “rather wear out than rust out”.

Taking that to heart, she’s busier now at 80 than she’s ever been. Volunteering for countless local organizations, she’s been elected as President of most of them, and has won more humanitarian awards than anyone else I know. She’s gained a certain level of unexpected notoriety in her bustling little city…being featured in a ridiculous number of newspaper articles, non-profit newsletters and even on a local billboard. She’s left quite a mark on this tight-knit community! In her “spare time” she works out 3 times a week…earning a front-row spot in her Taebo class, and truth be told, lifts more weight in the gym than most people half her age.

Tiny in stature, but gigantic in heart, she has spent the bulk of her life as an ambassador of good will and hope. She has invested the best of herself in humankind, and has championed the cause of kindness. Her fingerprints are all over the hearts and lives of entire generations of people…and I’m proud to say that she IS the stuff of which legends are made.

And yet on this day, she finds herself resting precariously in the hands of a loving God, being made uncomfortably aware that her days are numbered before the Lord, and most likely getting a stronger dose of her own frailty than she would’ve cared to have taken on her own. She has abruptly arrived at a place of a fresh appreciation for every moment of every day…cherishing everyone that has made her life so colorful, and so worth living. Something we would all benefit from, whether young or old, if we could just see our lives through her eyes.