Perspective is Everything

"I cried because I had no shoes, until I met a man who had no feet."

I don't remember exactly when it was that I first heard that quote. I don't actually know it's originator as it has been used and repeated by so many for so long and is attributed to a number of different sources. What I do know is how it affected me the first time I came upon it. It was one of those "reality check" moments for me that has stayed with me since my teens.

Sometimes we need a reality check, at least I do. You see, I'm often tempted to complain, to open my mouth with a, "Woe is me," but just about the time I do, God gently directs my attention toward something I need to see or need to hear that effectively silences my tongue, humbles me, and encourages me to drop to my knees in gratitude for whatever I have, for whatever my circumstance, because there is always someone who has it worse.

If you happen to read this little blog fairly regularly, then you know that last week's post was about our anniversary. Each year Tom and I like to take some time on that occasion to look back at where we've been, to acknowledge where we are now, and to dream about where we hope to be headed in the future. I gotta say, at this point in life we have a lot more to reminisce about and to be thankful for than to dream about... but that's not a bad thing at all.

One of the things we talked about last Monday was something we had gone through when our daughter Rachel was about two years old. She came into this world two days before our fourth anniversary in a most unexpected way. It's not necessary for me to relay all the details, so I'll suffice it to say that the womb was not the most hospitable place for her to remain, and my doctor recommended an emergency C-section for the same day we were given the news. It turned out that the best way to give our little baby a chance at life was in the artificial environment of an incubator in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) at the Methodist Hospital here in town.

Rachel was born six weeks early, but because of complications in utero, she was only about as big as a twenty-eight week gestation baby would be. She was so tiny. I couldn't wrap my head around how something so small, so fragile could survive. I got only a sideways glance at her from my bed as our dear pastor, Robert Jaeger, baptized her right there in the delivery room. They then promptly whisked her away from me to the NICU at Methodist while I recovered at the Northeast Baptist where she was delivered.

Rachel was just shy of two months old when we were finally able to bring her home from the hospital. She weighed less than four and a half pounds, but she was a giant compared to where she had started. She had spent fifty-nine days, fifty-nine excruciating days for us as her parents, there in the NICU with so many other little babies that needed the special love and care that only the NICU and its angel nurses could provide. A couple of years later we received an invitation in the mail for a reunion of all the NICU babies that had passed through the unit at Methodist within the past couple of years. It was an opportunity for the nurses in particular to be reunited with the littles they had cared for and had joyously and successfully sent home.

We went. We had sweet, little Rachel in tow. I don't know what we expected, but the day was eye-opening. We arrived at the venue, each of us holding Rachel's hands, her walking between us. There were so many parents and children there. As we looked around we noticed how few of the children were actually walking, like Rachel. We saw crutches, braces, wheelchairs. There were sweet babies that were now blind due to the necessary use of prolonged oxygen to help their weak lungs do their job. There were some that couldn't talk. It was a humbling experience.

We thought we had endured much, that our precious daughter had endured much, and she did battle through a great deal - thanks forever be to God, she made it - but we definitely had not gone through what some of these families had... and were still going through. Our daughter was defying the odds. So many others were not as fortunate. Every parent there that day was smiling, thankful beyond words to have their children, because we all knew that despite the mammoth efforts of the incredible doctors and nurses, there were those babies who never graduated... those parents who would never experience a reunion.

We left that day at one and the same time both grounded and more deeply connected to heaven. That reunion had offered perspective we had not really ever taken the time to ponder, to evaluate. We would never again take any of Rachel's milestones, any of her accomplishments for granted. God had given us a precious gift, the gift of putting ourselves in another's shoes and trying them on for size. The perspective we gained that day made us thankful for our own... and we were eternally grateful to have a chance to wear them.

Thinking back, I suppose that I have had a number of these "reality checks" throughout my life. I'm sure there are probably more to come, because I am still an imperfect person struggling to live the way Jesus would have me live. Though these humbling experiences are often difficult to process and sometimes unpleasant to deal with, they can do so much for our outlook. They are able to turn our focus one hundred eighty degrees... from self to others. Then they turn our attention back to our own circumstances, and if "Perspective" has done her job adequately and well, our attitude has likely changed. We are more grateful. We feel more blessed.

God could choose to deal harshly with my whining and complaining. I wish I never did it, I truly do. I deserve a lot worse than I ever get. Instead, He deals gently with me. He simply reminds me of the care and provision He has lavishly heaped upon me. He loves me, and He wants me to appreciate the gifts, the blessings I have. His desire is for me to become more Christ-like, to enjoy a closer relationship with Him, to have empathy for those less fortunate, to appreciate my own shoes... and to share of my abundance with those who have none.

In case you're wondering, Rachel just celebrated her thirty-first birthday. Tom and I are so grateful to have her. She is a beautiful, sweet soul, and is a true blessing in our lives. She is still petite, but she is mighty. She is strong, capable, and tenacious. Nothing ever keeps her down. She is now a mother too, to our sweet Benjameister. Her life continues to give us perspective... and how thankful we are to have it.