Touched by an Angel

I met an angel on Saturday. I was on my way to a speaking engagement and I stopped to pick up a biscuit at a fast food resturant. As I pulled up to the window to pay, I just stuck my hand out with my money in it, caught up in my own little world of very important things. Then something startling happened. The girl working the window just about climbed into my car, or at least it seemed. I was in my Corolla, so I was pretty low to the ground. She went out of her to lean out the window and stoop a little lower so she could make eye contact. As I relayed the story to my wife, she said the girl was flirting. Trust me, I'm at the age where that kind of ego boost doesn't happen anymore. This girl just knew the importance of eye contact and a pretty smile. Even if it was bit frightening!

She took my money and came back with my biscuit. She asked if I needed ketchup for my hash browns. When that transaction was finished, she gave another beautiful smile and wished me a great day.

Something interesting happened to me as I drove away from the window. I felt really good, really happy inside. It had not been a bad day by any means. My wife and I slept in. The kids were getting along well when I left. I was looking forward to my time with some children's ministry workers. But it was all suddenly better. And it all was the result of someone going out of her way to share a smile.

Naturally, it got me to thinking. Man, what a powerful experience! You might think I'm a little off kilter, but I was profoundly affected. I began to think about all the ways I could begin to practice such power. What if I just smiled more often, and even more importantly, went out of my way to share it with someone? All the ladies that work for me here at the day care know how task oriented I am. Any time I have the "man on a mission" look between tasks, some of them began to worry and ask "What's wrong?" They much rather see my happy joking face. This morning I was on the phone with a future employee and I was in the middle of a task, so I was quite focused. Very early in our conversation she asked if everything was ok because I did not seem my usual happy self. Which I found VERY interesting because you can count on one hand the number of times we have talked and all but one have been on the phone.

The power of a smile. The power of joy. Nothing profund to ponder here. I just wanted to share.

So, is it a sport?

Let the drama begin! The 20th Winter Olympics are about halfway over. I got lucky this weekend. We usually can't get the local NBC affiliate, but something magical happened to the rabbit ears. All weekend I enjoyed bobsledding, downhill skiing, snowboarding, and (gasp!) ice dancing. OK, maybe enjoyed is too strong a word when talking about ice dancing. The tv was on, providing background noise while the ice dancing athletes competed. While my wife and I sat there, I asked the question aloud, "Is ice dancing a sport?" Before you pass judgment on the "sport" or on me for what you assume may be my opinion, consider these thoughts.

First of all, I do not doubt the physical conditioning of the people involved. Like I told my wife, I'm sure that all the male ice dancers could kick my butt without any problem. They certainly show great coordination. I can barely do the dance steps in shoes, much less on a thin metal blades. But great physical condition and coordination do not a sport make, do they?

Maybe I shouldn't even be asking the question. Maybe my initial assumption is in error. I have always considered the Olympics a sporting event. When someone refers to the Olympics, they almost always say "Olympic competition". There are all kinds of competitions, including dancing. But the competitors are almost always referred to as "athletes" and to me that denotes a sport. I've never seen an ice dancer on a Gatorade or a beer commercial. If ice dancing is a sport, at what point did it become one?

Which leads me to an important question about people on a faith journey. At what point does a person on a faith journey become a Christian? There are lots of answers to that question. I think only one answer matters, that of the final judge - the person from whom the name "Christian" derives. I've got my thoughts and I'll admit that my interpretation of those thoughts is constantly evolving, though the center does not change. I'll be glad to post them later. But I'm really curious to hear from others on their own journeys. What do you think?

Tuesday 2/21/06 11:24 AM Afterthoughts
- Do ice dancers want to be considered athletes?
- When would someone on a faith journey call him or herself a "Christian"?
- Does everyone on a faith journey even want to be called a Christian?

Real Love

Valentine's Day is in two days. If you've not done so yet, make sure you go out and buy something special for the one you love. Two weeks from tomorrow, Feb 27, will the two year anniversary of my father's death. As we get ready to celebrate a day of love, here are some thoughts on my father's love.

I'll never forget the first time I realized how much my father loved me and how much he was willing to sacrifice for me. I was around eight years old. It didn't come in the form of a gift, a hug, or even in the words, "I love you." It didn't occur to me as some sweet "A-ha" when he came to my Little League baseball game. It happened across the street from our house, down at the shore. It was summer time. We walked down to the shore where our boat was moored. By the way, we call it "the landing" back home. We would always go down several times a week, just to check up on the boat - check the batteries, bail out any rain water, knock off some barnacles.

On this particular day, the tide was low. While my father worked on the boat and my little sister played on the shore, I walked around on the shoals that were exposed by the low tide. There was so much to do as I wandered along those microcosms of life. I'd find sand dollars and watch them bury themselves to get away from me. Sometimes a sea horse or even a baby sand shark would be stranded in a tidal pool. Most of the time I would dig up clams, look for conchs, or just sit around eating raw scallops.

On this day, I was playing around in one of those tidal pools when I raked my foot across a jackknife clam. It "slit my foot wide open", as we used to say. The water turned bright red in a hurry. I guess I gave one of those screams that every parent recognizes - the one that indicates REAL pain or trouble, not just frustration or anger. My dad jumped out of the boat and ran over to me.

To stop the bleeding, he pulled his shirt off and wrapped it around my foot. As he did so, I distinctly remember thinking, "Wow! He is using his shirt. He will never be able to wear this shirt again. He is willing to sacrifice this for me." That may not seem like a big deal, but to an eight year old kid, it was pretty big. Then, he threw me up on his shoulders and carried me home while my sister walked beside us.

I don't remember anything else that happened that day. I probably got rushed to the emergency room for my yearly tetanus shot. I got quite a few of those as a kid. But I'll never forget the feeling of my father's love, a shirt wrapped around my bleeding foot.

Interestingly, as I finished writing this story, I am reminded of another son who bled, but his father chose to watch because of the greater love he felt for us. Something to think about, isn't it.

Grace & Hollywood

I thought about writing about the Super Bowl and all the hoopla that comes with it, but quickly got bored with the idea. I instead wanted to comment one more time on End of the Spear. I came across a post on another blog via another blog I read regularly. He touches on an interesting subject which I myself wondered about, but in a slightly different vein. I'll post a link to his blog at the end.

As someone who is concerned about the faith journeys of other people, I wonder how a film like Spear affects the people involved with its production. This is a movie with an obvious Christian message. It is, afterall, about missionaries. I wondered the same thing when The Passion of the Christ came out two years ago and you don't have to be a rocket theologian to know what it's about. I have no reason to believe that everyone involved called themselves a "Christian" just like I have no reason to believe that everyone in my church on any given Sunday would call themselves one either.

I posted last month how overtly Christian themes pop up with regularity in movies all the time. Are the people in those films affected in any way by the presence of those themes and ideas? Do they see and recognize the hands of grace at work around them? For that matter, do we always see the hands of grace at work around us? Do we see the gazillion ways that God is talking to us through the everyday events of our lives? Judging from my own experience, I'd say no. Usually it happens after the fact with a big "a ha" moment. Whether we recognize grace or not, I think it it still working and I think it is steering us in the right directions for our faith journeys.

How have you seen grace working in your life? How has God been talking to you?

BTW, here's the other blog.