I sent him a scrapbook of memories- pictures and words to remind him of the fun we’d had together. An acknowledgment that despite not knowing what it’s like to be him, I was willing to learn, and willing to try, and willing to love him.
His response: Hey thanks for the book, it made me smile. I guess a lot of the past several months has been the fact that I struggled to accept I had opened up to you and I am sorry for that. I hear you are off to Australia for some time, have fun, it will be an incredible experience.
In receiving that message I was so thankful for the way he’s put together. For the way he never reacts out of emotion- and despite the angst of waiting-, taking time to think through what it is he wants to say. Thankful that he knows me and even though we haven’t really communicated in months, he communicates now in a way I understand. I had a question about what he had said but I was thankful.
But I read this today:
A Christian is one who points at Christ and says, ‘I can’t prove a thing, but there’s something about His eyes and His voice. There’s something about the way He carries His cross- the way He carries me’.
My thankfulness is all too often misplaced. My sight is all too often too short. Instead of his response to me I should be thinking about His response to me.
For we are what he has made us, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand to be our way of life. Ephesians 2:10