Life is a series of Polaroid moments in which the greatest
truths of this earthly life are dispensed.
Wisdom awaits those who are attentive to these moments. At least, this is true for me and reflects
the way my mind works.
I was reminded of this fact again while my husband and I
attended church at our local state park.
The ecumenical church service occurs every Sunday from Memorial Day to
Labor Day, and it is hosted by a local Lutheran church. Since nature (the services are outside unless
it rains) is the best church sanctuary (in my opinion), we like to attend this
service periodically throughout the summer.
New this year is communion.
Due to the fact that several members of the host Lutheran church prefer
to attend this service, communion was probably added at the members’ request,
but it’s a nice addition for visiting campers as well.
The reason I relay all this information is because my
husband and I had front row seats to the communion line. Due to where we had chosen to sit, we had no
choice but to “people-watch” as the queue moved toward the wafer and wine.
One couple, in particular, caught my eye. Presumably married, the two did the Mom-Pop
sandwich (“Junior” was between them) as they inched their way toward the
pastor; Mom was in the front, and Dad was bringing up the rear. It sounds pretty typical, but this mom and
pop were in their late 80s and “Junior” was in his late 50s or early 60s, and
he had Down Syndrome.
The Polaroid moment for me occurred as Pops and Junior were
negotiating the sloping and uneven landscape. Pops reached out to grab the back
of “Junior’s” shirt in an effort to stabilize his son along the precarious hillside.
As you imagine the moment in your mind’s eye, I’m sure you are thinking what I
was thinking; negotiating the hillside was every bit as dangerous and difficult
for Pops, but true to form, Pops was more concerned about his son’s safety than
his own.
The wheels in my head started turning. My husband and I are
at the point in our lives where our children, 21 and 19, still require
parenting, but they are, in many ways, independent. Sure, they make mistakes,
and the trial and error process yields as many successes as failures, but they
are making their own decisions. Likewise,
our kids still need us, but in a different way, and all of us are adapting to the
new-found freedom that accompanies their independence.
For a child with Down Syndrome, there is independence in
small doses and according to a different scale; dependency, however, is a way
of life. Likewise, for parents of children with special needs, active parenting
is a lifelong commitment. It might not sound like a big deal until one actually
thinks about it. For most parents, an investment of 20-25 years of active
parenting is required, and then, the adult child typically starts the process
with his/her own family. For a parent of
a child with Down Syndrome, parenting is a full-time job for life.
Even though my husband and I are several years from
retirement (and are not in any hurry to get to that age), we still have “when-we-are-retired”
conversations, in which we imagine days and activities which will be strictly
of our own choosing.
As I watched Pops and Junior shuffle along, I tried to put
myself in Pops’ place. I don’t know Pops, nor do I know anything of his life or
experience, but I imagine that Pops’ “golden years” have been very different
from his contemporaries. Even so, as
evidenced by his non-verbal interaction with his son, Pops is, first and
foremost, a dad. His job is, and has
always been, to care for, love, and watch over his son. If asked about life, I imagine him shrugging
his shoulders and saying, “I have no complaints.” In fact, I imagine him
pulling up a chair, grabbing a cup of coffee, and saying, “Let me tell you
about all the blessings.”
Pops and Junior brought tears to my eyes – not because I
felt sorry for them, but because I felt ashamed of myself in comparison. My daughter has been a real pain in the butt,
making questionable choices, hanging around questionable people, and
challenging the values in which was raised.
At times (ok, many times), I have been on my knees – tears of
exasperation rolling down my face and with a raw heart turned inside out- alternately
confronting then pleading with God over this kid. I’ll bet Pops has been there too (minus the histrionics).
The truth is that our life circumstances – that includes the
kids (as well as the lack of them) with whom we have been entrusted – are allowed
by God. We each have a job to do for
Him, and we each have been equipped with gifts, talents, and temperaments to
complete that/those special, unique, and personalized jobs.
I Peter 4:10 “Each of you should use whatever gift you have
received to serve others, as faithful stewards of God's grace in its various
forms.”
I Corinthians 12: 4-6 “There are different
kinds of gifts, but the same Spirit distributes them. 5 There are different kinds of
service, but the same Lord. 6 There are different kinds of working, but in all
of them and in everyone it is the same God at work.”
Thus, those jobs. . .A) Bring glory and honor to the
creator, B) Advance the work of His kingdom, and C) Grow our relationship with
Christ by molding our character.
Pops and I each have had different rows to hoe in life. It’s ok, though, because our Dad in Heaven IS
the Mom-Pop sandwich; He plows the path for us and brings up the rear. Whether
we feel it or not, He grabs the back of shirt, stabilizing us as we navigate
the hills and valleys of life.
And based on the Polaroid moment that I saw today, it seems Pops
has a pretty cool reward coming.
Matthew 5: 5, 7, 8
“Blessed are the meek, For they will inherit the earth
Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy;
Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.”
