Wednesday September 21, 2005
Small blue flowers of kindness
I got called, a week ago, to spend the night with a friend who is dying, slowly, of prostate cancer. He didn\’t need me to do anything for him; he just needed someone nearby, in case.
I was an emergency fill-in. The members of his congregation have organized a roster of people to stay with him – every meal, every night.
I get a lump in my throat, thinking about it.
The previous week, I had been hiking with a group who had been friends for forty years. All day, as we stumped along a trail that cut close under glaciers and back down through dense woods, I heard them planning how they could help one of their number who\’s in declining health.
I\’m moved.
In the United Church Observer, I read about a Canadian woman who was injured in a car accident in Africa and flown to Capetown for surgery. Her minister in Canada sent an e-mail to the only contact she had in South Africa – the world renowned Archbishop Desmond Tutu. Tutu was in Sweden. But his office staff reached the local minister. When he returned to South Africa, Tutu himself took time to visit the injured woman in hospital. Her surgeon realized that she and her husband were strangers in an unfamiliar land, and took her husband shopping…
My glasses fogged up.
Signs of hope
Is it just aging that causes these unpredictable surges of gratitude?
All around, I can see abundant evidence of what we used to call “man\’s inhumanity to man” – except that it wasn\’t just men, of course. It ranges from blatant stupidity to downright malice. People ignore other people, hurt them, despise them, exploit them…
And then, in the middle of the disasters, the crises, and the misery, come these small acts of love and compassion.
Years ago, I saw a matched pair of paintings by (I think) a South African artist. The first portrayed the ruin left by a forest fire – blackened timber, charred ground, wisps of smoke sifting upwards against a ruthlessly glaring sky…
The second painting was identical. Except that in one corner, a tiny blue flower was blooming. And it changed everything.
If I recall correctly, the artist called the first painting, “Despair.” He called the second, “Hope.”
I find it a powerful metaphor for today\’s world.
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For a lighter look at ethics, faith, and life, I recommend Ralph Milton\’s weekly e-newsletter Rumors. You can subscribe to it at the Wood Lake Books home page in Ralph Milton\’s Site, or by sending a note directly to [email protected].
It\’s also worth pursuing Richard Fairchild\’s United Online site. Another site worth visiting is David Keating\’s \”SeemslikeGod\” page.
During my lifetime, my world has gone through the postwar arrogance of victory; the social upheavals of feminism, hippiedom, and hard drug addiction; government-sponsored lotteries; the first world civil war; climate change…
Perhaps, in that context, I find myself hungering for, and being grateful for, those occasional small blue flowers of kindness.
Perhaps that\’s why I did something odd. I sold my little Mazda Miata sports car. The new owner would come around later in the day to pick it up. I would not see that delightful little car again.
And so, as I left for the day, I patted the car gently on its rear fender, and said “Thank you.”
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Copyright © 2002 by Jim Taylor. Non-profit use in congregations and study groups permitted; all other rights reserved.
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