This Little Light

One of my favorite things to do these days is to sit in my car with my grown daughter and talk...we do this when we get home from shopping or being out. I don't know why, but we pull into the carport and that's when all the windows of our hearts seem to open. Sometimes a few minutes turns into an hour or more. Tonight we were talking about the real people in our lives...

Real people. People who are earthy, honest, raw. Not contrived, not self-conscious. Those are the ones you better hang onto, even if they're crustier than the others. Growing up, I never felt drawn to the frothy girls who were cute but didn't have anything meaningful to say. Enthusiasm does not necessarily equal brain cells, just like titles and education don't always mean there's any actual thinking going on. Some of the most intelligent and wise folks I've ever known are also humble, from simple beginnings, not usually caring about what anyone thinks of them. They are learners, observers, unashamed. Even if we don't agree, politically or religiously, I would rather hear what they really think (even if it's unpleasant) than to find out later I was lied to. Honesty is a wonderful commodity in short supply. Give me honesty mixed with some good ole Southern detente, and that's priceless. 

In our pastor's sermon this morning, he spoke about what it means to flesh out our Christianity, of investing ourselves in others. It's so easy to get caught up in the making of money, the bustle of busy-ness, the worries of obtaining and maintaining all our little trinkets on this earth. I don't know how that man does it, but sometimes I believe he's snuck over here and read my journal. I had a week from h-e-double-hockey-sticks -- new grandbaby Caiden ended up in the hospital (he's okay, ya'll, thank God) for a few days 'til they got his temperature regulated. So we had big sister Maddie here. I had a whole lot of stuff to do -- real estate, art jobs, appointments, a little soiree at the house, walking the dog, you know, stuff. So I promptly got a stomach virus. At two o-clock in the morning I was emailing and texting people with a can of Lysol in my hand. I cancelled every obligation I had and curled back into a fetal position in the bed. Thank God for my daughter, Liz. She babysat, brought me tea and ginger ale and walked the dog for days. I read two books and changed my life. I thought about Ground Zero, viruses and crazy people. You ever thought about why they call some crazy people "Mad"? That's because they're mad as fire at somebody or God or something and finally the mad fries their brains. Maybe that's not nice to say. I've just seen it happen. A lot. I'm trying real hard not to be mad.

It's late Sunday night and I'm sitting here thinking about an old book, taught to me by many real people over the span of my days. People who were raw, exposed, humble, passionate. People who cared and invested themselves into my life so that I could find the light, so I could shine that light off my little hill. I thank you. God knows where you are.