I was in a dialogue with a hurting and confused friend today. He was telling me the story of a conversation of which I was one of the topics. He told me that one part of the dialogue was healthy and the other part was unhealthy, but I sensed he was willing to tell me both if I pressed.
How do I interpret that? What do I do? Especially as part of me was morbidly intrigued by what was unhealthy.
Here's what I did...
I took a moment to check my pulse; I was surprised that it hadn't quickened. It would have quickened six months ago. I then asked him to share with me the healthy portion, but that if the unhealthy portion would skew my perspective of him or someone else, I would prefer that he keep it to himself.
I surprised myself.
Maybe I am learning to choose for people. Maybe I am learning that stories are viral in that they infect (both positively and negatively) those who tell as well as those who listen.
I want to choose not to speculate...I'm more free when I don't.
I want to whisper healthy stories of people's virtues.
Perhaps that's the sound of a great (and healthy) infection.
Sunday, November 09, 2008
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
His eye is on the sparrow...what about the Congolese?
A couple of days ago, I grabbed a sandwich at a local deli. Outside of this particular deli were all sorts of fruits and vegetables for sale, as well as some for decoration. Most specifically, there were these bundles of wheat that people could buy (not inexpensively) to hang on their doors or place as center-pieces on their tables.
I was quietly enjoying my lunch when a small flock of sparrows landed on the ledge next to the wheat. Before long, I could no longer see the sparrows as they were ingrained into the bundles of wheat, carefully picking out the individual pieces.
I just sat a watched, amazed that God's eye is actually on the sparrow.
The next morning, I continued to read up on what is happening in and around Goma, Congo...millions displaced and hungry.
His eye in on the sparrow...what about the Congolese?
I was quietly enjoying my lunch when a small flock of sparrows landed on the ledge next to the wheat. Before long, I could no longer see the sparrows as they were ingrained into the bundles of wheat, carefully picking out the individual pieces.
I just sat a watched, amazed that God's eye is actually on the sparrow.
The next morning, I continued to read up on what is happening in and around Goma, Congo...millions displaced and hungry.
His eye in on the sparrow...what about the Congolese?
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