One Word 2013 :: Love
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I smelled him before I saw him.
That sounds terrible, I know, but the smoke and body odor
was so strong that it made me look up from my basket of groceries.
I saw the culprit, two people in front of me in the checkout
line, as he struggled with shaking hands to stuff change and chocolate bars
into the pocket of his red hooded sweatshirt. His hair was disheveled. His
beard bore the signs of several days growth. His brown pants, tattered and too
big. And on his feet he wore not shoes, but blue corduroy slippers.
Not your typical Trader Joes shopper.
At the end of the counter stood another man, neatly dressed,
a kind smile on his face. A friend? He watched, patiently, as the bedraggled man struggled to zip the pocket holding the cherished chocolate bars.
“He just got out of the hospital,” the man at the end of the
counter said to the cashier.
“Oh, that’s too bad,” said the guy at checkout.
“But you’re going to be O.K., Jim, right?” said his patient
friend.
Nothing.
Shuffle, shuffle. The pocket just wouldn’t accept the
change. Not quickly, anyway.
They finally finished their transaction and the friend said
goodbye to the cashier, not a trace of impatience or embarrassment on his face.
“Come on, Jim. Let’s get going,” his friend said in no particular hurry at all,
despite the growing line in the Express Lane.
Jim shuffled behind his friend, head bent, barely taking in
the busy scene of the grocery store, while his friend gently took his elbow and
guided him out of the store.
In that moment, it wasn’t Jim who had caught my attention,
it was his friend. A friend who had obviously seen a need—a need for chocolate,
a need for a ride to the store, a need for attention—and had responded in love.
It showed on his face, in his demeanor, in his actions.
This man, who looked nothing like Jim, who looked more like
the “rest of us,” was not concerned about appearance. He was concerned about
Jim.
He loved.
* * * * *
Two years ago I gave in to the “One Word” craze and chose
“Grace” as my word for 2011. Even though my skeptical heart was quite cynical
about the whole thing, I have to say, it worked.
Grace stayed on my mind. It permeated my thoughts. I began
to see it everywhere, and pretty soon I started to show it a little more. I
hope.
Last year I had a word in my mind, but I never wrote about
it. I never even talked about it. With anyone. I kept it tucked away, probably
because it seemed like too much, too hard.
But this year, I think it’s time to come clean and expose
the word I’ve been rolling around in my head for the past year. In fact, I’m
just going to claim it for this year and see what happens, because two years ago
Grace walked in, sat down, and became a better part of my life. I hope this
word will do the same.
You’re probably scratching your head, wondering why I’m
choosing Love as my word for the year. If you know me at all, you probably
think I love enough already. I have a wonderful family to love. I have great
friends to love. I even have a room full of students to love.
And I do. I love each one.
But you know what? I don’t think I love any of them well.
As I thought about love, unspoken, throughout the year last
year, I realized that my love is often so conditional. You love me; I’ll love
you back. I know that’s not how it’s supposed to be. I’m not even sure I know
fully what love means.
For so long I have thought that love means commitment, and
it does, but it’s more than that. You see, Jesus tells us to love our neighbor
who could very possibly be someone we don’t know well at all, someone to whom
we may not be committed. So what kind of love is that?
God is teaching me that love has so little to do with me and
so very much to do with those around me. He’s showing me that love has
everything to do with putting myself in the shoes of another, walking through
their day, seeing life through their eyes. He’s teaching me that love cannot be
on my terms—that it needs to be freely given with no strings attached. Love is
letting myself go and putting others first.
I wonder, how many times have I just assumed something about
someone without really stepping into their world, seeing things through their
eyes? How many times have I made snap judgments based on what my experience
tells me rather than learning what their experience has really been?
Love takes time. Love listens. Love observes. Sometimes, Love
shuts her mouth.
And this is just the beginning. I know I have so much to
learn about how to love well.
Trust me, this is scary. I don’t know what God might call me
to do in the process of really learning how to love. I mean, might He call me
to love the homeless man in the Express Lane at Trader Joes?
Funny thing is, He already has.
I just want to learn more about how that should look.
I want to love well.
* * * * *
