Birthdays, Queso, and Love

-

It was Miguel’s birthday. And I love Miguel.

But I don’t always love socializing. I’m an introvert. As much as I treasure my people and preach the importance of connecting with others, the stereotypical party event – like for a birthday – is really a strain on my heart and mind. A whole bunch of people just sitting around for the purposes of small talk . . . especially when I don’t know some of those people well . . . all the background noise which my old ears struggle to filter out . . . it’s just hard for me. So, I avoid it.

But it was Miguel’s birthday. Miguel is our Zumba instructor. He is positive and fun and energetic and makes us feel good about ourselves when we are looking fat and sweaty and gross. He’s in his final semester of nursing school, and he is going to be a rockin’ nurse. I love Miguel.

But I really didn’t want to go to his birthday party. That sounds awful. But y’all, I did have reasons. We were going to a Mexican restaurant after our Zumba class on Monday. Let’s dissect that a bit. AFTER Zumba. I would be tired and sweaty. I don’t want to do much after Zumba other than shower and sit. Alone. Quietly.

And it was a Monday. I have school Tuesday morning, early. This is my job. It’s important that I’m rested and ready to face my students on a Tuesday morning.

And have I discussed my sleep issues here? I have serious sleep issues – I’ve had them for years. I have an evening routine that I go through to shut my brain down, and it takes some time. Going to a party and THEN coming home to shower and decompress and try to get some shut-eye did not sound promising. And really, one bad night can knock me off the wagon for a week or more sometimes.

But it was Miguel’s birthday. And I love Miguel.

And love makes sacrifices. Husbands sacrifice for wives. Mothers sacrifice for children. Friends sacrifice for friends. Christ sacrificed for us – that’s how we know what love is and that love makes sacrifices. And in comparison to his sacrifices, anything we do is shabby and weak.

Of course, Miguel would have been quite understanding if I had explained all my reasons to pass on the event. Not that I would have been so uncouth as to share them all with him. I’m just saying – he’s a good guy and wouldn’t have expected me to put myself out for him. And that could have been another good excuse for me to not attend. He won’t be hurt. He might not even notice. It’s not like I’ve known him for years and years; I don’t think I’m even one of his favorite Zumba students or anything.

But I’m called to love. And love isn’t passive; it’s active. Love isn’t a feeling; it’s a decision. Love isn’t sitting at a distance looking at someone and feeling warm, fuzzy affection for them; love is walking with them through their muck . . . laughing with them over the crazy . . . working beside them for the kingdom . . . and eating chips and queso with them at a loud, crowded table in your sweaty t-shirt because the anniversary of their birth into the world is a cause for celebration.

And I do love Miguel.

So, I went. I confess that I was the first one to leave (and everyone understood). But I was glad I went. Love is what we do, friends.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Real Lesson

-
Image
Every once in a while, I have a moment of accidental brilliance with clearly divine origins. Vocabulary is a big deal to me. I read research quite a while ago that said the biggest difference between inner city students who succeed and those who don't boils down to two things: parent involvement (duh) and a strong vocabulary. Having good words at your disposal changes not only your communication but your thinking. When you learn the word "vague", you start noticing vagueness around you and want clarification. When you know the words "irritated" and "distraught" and the subtle difference between them, you can recognize each in your friends and know better how to help them. My middle school students learn eight good vocabulary words a quarter – strong, useful, prevalent words that I think will impact their communication in positive ways if they know, understand, and use them. (That may not sound like much -- but by the end of middle school, that gives ...
Read more

Is It Prayer?

-
Image
Last week, I wrote about a moment of accidental brilliance I had. This week, I write about a moment of unintentional snobbishness. As I’ve grown spiritually over the years, my prayer life has changed. When I talk to God, it’s usually very personal. Pretty casual. Always respectful, of course, but intimate, spontaneous and friendly. My team I work with at school is the same way. Our prayer times in the morning before the kids come in are very meaningful to me. I feel like Jesus is sitting there in the room with us, loving us and enjoying our chat with him. Prayers at my church are different – and I was irked by that during a recent service. My church is rather liturgical (which was a new thing for me), and this is usually evident in the prayer time. Most of the prayers are read. And to be honest, I just don’t care for that. Because for me, reading is not praying. It’s reading . Praying is a conversation, not a recitation. I wouldn’t have a conversation with friends by reading alou...
Read more

Not In Charge

-
Image
As a general rule, I don't assume my dreams have any particular meaning for me unless something really smacks me in the face for some reason. That said, I've been having some weird dreams lately. Not weird as in atypical -- they're the kind of dreams I've been having all my life. Like, I'm a student in class and I don't know where to go or what I was supposed to study and I've been missing classes for weeks. Or I'm an actor in a play and I can't find my costume and I've been learning all the wrong lines -- or even doing the wrong play altogether. That kind of dream. Yesterday, it was a teacher/director scenario. I was helping in a class with a woman trying to direct a bunch of young kids in a play. And she was making me crazy because she had no idea what she was doing. She was talking way over their heads. She passed out some freaky picture (something like an ancient mosaic) to show the kids where she wanted them each standing on the stage . . . ...
Read more

Revolutionary Love

-
Image
As I drug my lazy self out of bed yesterday morning after a few days of too much pie and too much time on the couch, my devotional was from the beginning of Psalm 118: Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good; his love endures forever. That staggering proclamation about God is repeated multiple times in the Old Testament – “his love endures forever.” In Ezra, Jeremiah, both books of Chronicles, several psalms . . . in fact, every single line of Psalm 136 ends with that phrase. And of course, after pondering these passages all day, now the old Chris Tomlin song quoting the verse has been running through my head. And while humming that catchy little tune, it suddenly occurred to me how very remarkable that belief is in the context of the Old Testament. I’m no ancient history expert, but I do know a bit about the other religions in the world during the time of ancient Israel when these books were written. And I don’t think any of those peoples proclaimed their gods as loving. Like, ...
Read more