She buries her head into my shoulder and begins to weep. I can see huge tears roll down her cheek and splash onto the arm of the airport chair. She is realizing that in moments she’ll board a flight for Georgia and soon after I’ll be on a plan to Arizona and once again there will be a thousand miles between us.
I’m in love.
I admit it – I’m in sappy, crazy, blissful, it’s-like-we-share-a-brain love. I promise this blog post isn’t about how awesome she is or the story of how we met. Instead, this story is about the little voice in my head that recognizes how happy I am and immediately wonders how it will all go wrong.
I have a brother. Not a lot of people know that because I rarely talk about him. His life has been full of sad circumstances and stupid decisions – a story full of villains but with only a handful of heroes. I am sorry to say I am not counted among the heroes.
“Guys, I’m sorry, but Las Vegas just doesn’t appeal to me.”
I spoke those fateful words while at lunch at Friday’s Front Row Grill back in 2008. I remember that moment because of the reaction of my friends at the table. I might as well have told them that Jar Jar Binks was my favorite character from the Star Wars universe. It was a mix of shock, pity, and anger.
They hounded me the entire lunch hour and – after some prodding from our waitress – I agreed to cross the Hoover Dam and venture into Sin City.
I can’t expect you to believe this story. No one back home did either when they heard there was magic happening on a street corner in East Texas.
When word got around that an old man was selling miniature dolls made to look like people walking by, there was plenty of doubters. There was talk of copyright violation, privacy violation and general discomfort with the whole idea of someone making a model of a person without permission.
It has rained a lot in Phoenix the past few days. When you combine this with week spent in Texas and add a pinch of general laziness you end up with a backyard that looks like the set of Honey, I Shrunk the Kids. (French class!). I’m going to need a machete and a flamethrower to tame this jungle but just for today I’m glad it’s there.
When I was out jogging to make myself feel superior to you, I passed by a beautiful flower bush in bloom. It was amazingly yellow and had so many petals it didn’t know what to do with them all; some were scattered on the ground beneath it. It was glorious!
Then when I got home and lamented by gardening mission I noticed the weeds that are troubling me have tiny petals at the top of them. Just a few to each one, small blooms stretching toward the sun with whatever glory a weed can muster. It reminded me of a story…
When Jesus was talking in the city one day he noticed people giving offerings at the temple. Among them was a poor widow who had but two coins. He watched as she gave them up and said, “The plain truth is that this widow has given by far the largest offering today.” The widow was giving all she had. She had no giant check to hand off at a press conference, just an embarrassingly small amount that God counted as a treasure.
It was an encouragement to me to bloom with whatever petals I’ve been given. Stretch out toward the sun what I have no matter if anyone cares or appreciates it. Because I know that where some people see weeds, God sees a flower. Where some people see broken, God sees beautiful.
It’s glorious.
“Call us when you get this message.”
Shit. When I got the voice mail I just knew something was wrong. My parents back in San Antonio wanted me to call them. My mind raced as I immediately found a quiet spot in the office and braced myself listening to the line ring until my dad’s voice cut across the distance…
Lately I’ve noticed that my friends are beginning to pair up and multiply. Now, I didn’t major in biology but I think it’s the result of feeding them after midnight or spilling water on them. Either way, I’m learning some new fascinating things about parenthood.
“I’ve been robbed.”
It took me a minute to realize the mess in my house was different than the normal clutter I’d seen every day. My mind began racing: “Call the police.” “Are they still in here?” “What should I use as a weapon – a 7-iron or a hedge clippers?”