 |
The Cycle of Life |
| For
all husbands reading this column, here's a quiz: What do you do when
you are on a business trip and your pregnant wife phones and demands
to move the very next day from the place where you have been staying
the last couple of months? Keep in mind that you plan to move from
there within the next three weeks anyway. One more factor: when you
arrive home, you discover your beloved and normally very calm and
adaptable wife standing in a chair sobbing hysterically while somehow
your 15 month old child sleeps peacefully through the chaos. |
| The
problem? Two unexpected guests for dinner had shown up and refused
to leave. Of course, those two unexpected guests happened to be a
couple of rodents (rats, they later discovered, lots of them, but
they originally thought there were just a couple of mice). |
| Quickly
now—what is your first response? |
a) Would you
tell her how ridiculous it is to be upset about a few little mice?
After all, they really don't eat that much.
b) Would you
tell her that you are moving anyway in the few weeks and announce
that she needs to gut up and take it for the time being?
c) Would you suggest that she recollect that, after all, they
live in New York City and that housing is simply IMPOSSIBLE to
find, especially on short notice?
d) Would you
tell her to start packing and then immediately get on the phone
to find another place to live right then no matter what the cost?
|
| Well,
if you answered “d,” you just won the husband of the year
award. And, thank goodness, that is the option that my oldest son
took this past summer when faced with exactly that scenario. So when
I arrived for a short visit in late August, I joined them in a downtown
Manhattan high-rise apartment, fortunately made temporarily available
after he made a desperate call to his company's corporate office. |
| After
being somewhat snookered by a private driver who talked me out of
getting in the long taxi line at La Guardia, being whisked in a new
Mercedes through Brooklyn and over the Brooklyn bridge and grandly
(after a huge fee) dropped me off, I'm welcomed warmly by my son.
He is eager to show me their new digs. First and foremost, he displays
my bedroom—which, of course, is also the living room, playroom,
kitchen and dining room, TV room, storage room, mud room, and study.
He then indicates the nursery, which, naturally, is also the master
bedroom and the guest room. He points to a door and says, “there's
our spacious bathroom—try not to trip over the toilet when you
walk in.” |
| So
the four of us, plus the 15 suitcases in which they packed their possessions,
settle into these 450 square feet of living space for the next few
days. My youngest son stopped by later and immediately announced,
“Wow, this place is HUGE.” Trust me, there was no sarcasm
in his voice. This, after all, is New York City. In conversation,
they mention that we are so far downtown that hardly anyone lives
near here. As far as I can tell, that means that less than five hundred
people actually live in the same building in which we are housed,
and probably only 10,000 or so live in the immediate four block area
surrounding us. Definitely a sparse crowd. |
| One
thing for sure: there really are NO children in this area. Everywhere
I stroll with my grandson, people are absolutely delighted to see
a baby. I can't count the number of smiles this little one and his
charming antics bring on people's faces. Without fail, people open
doors for us, offer directions when we look a little lost, help get
the stroller up and down subway stairs and simply engage us in a little
baby joy. |
| So
what is it about a baby that brings such a joyful response from so
many? As I spend hours with him, I realize that in many ways, there
are multiple similarities between this little one's actions and those
of my father, whom I am losing to a rapidly advancing dementia. They
both frequently fixate on one thing (I've read the “Found You,
Little Wombat” book so many times now that I'm dreaming wombats);
they both utter masses of verbal nonsense (although I could swear
I heard my grandson say, “I flush the toilet” at one time);
they both make a mess of eating and elimination; they both can get
pretty demanding when those around them can't understand what they
need. |
| Yet,
even with the similarities, there is something so special about babies
that adults with dementia can't offer. I personally think that a baby
reminds us that new beginnings do happen. The innocence of children
brings out a longing in adults for a return to that innocence, to
a time when we could simply enjoy ourselves in the moment and find
delight in the smallest things without worrying or even being aware
that life might get difficult later. A baby is a sign that God has
not forgotten this world. Their smiles and belly laughs and freely
given love open to us the gateways of the heavenly places. For those
moments we savor those smiles together, complete strangers are united
in the transcendence of the Presence of God. The light on a baby's
face brings us into the light of God, where all is possible again. |
| This
high-rise where my son and family now temporarily reside is just a
few blocks from “Ground Zero,” the site where the World
Trade Towers were so horrendously destroyed on September 11, 2001.
If there is any place where hope might be forever lost, this would
be it. If there is any place where smiles could never again appear,
this would be it. If there is any place where joy would be forever
smothered, this would be it. But what I find is kindness and consideration
and response to the beauty of a baby and his ability to love freely
and without discrimination. God is present and hope is birthed again.
|
| I
have discovered in all this the privilege of participating in the
cycle of life—both ends of it. As I slowly lose my father and
slowly gain my grandchildren, I am reminded that God is bigger than
all, and offers grace and renewed hope at both ends. When my father
dies, he shall see God face to face. As we respond to the babies in
our midst, we also see the face of God. Grace and hope never disappear.
We just need to be still long enough to receive them. |
| And now,
back to the “Wombat” book, and the wonder of new life.
May you also find the blessing wherever you find yourself in the cycle
of life. |
| Christy |
| The
Rev. Dr. Christy Thomas, Pastor, Krum UMC |
| christy@krumumc.org |
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