Picturing Grace

The day before my father left for Bulgaria, he came over to my house in order to borrow our camera. We have a SONY that takes both video and stills, not too mention how compact and portable it is. It was perfect for his needs.

I am alarmingly like my father, and I had the faintest notion as I kissed him goodbye that I would never see my camera again, but it didn’t really matter as long as I saw him again. I was wrong. About the camera.

Dad had a great time and he worked on a church construction site alongside lovely Bulgarian people. They hung drywall together and taught one another hymns in their respective languages. One afternoon, after recording the construction progress with my camera, Dad put it down on a table and continued working (and singing, I’m sure). He and his new friends worked long hours, and later that day as they began to clean up, Dad noticed that the camera was gone. They all searched, but to no avail. After all the tools and equipment were put away, and Dad was doing a final check, the camera was discovered at the bottom of a bucket - a bucket full of water.

First, he took a hairdryer to it, which he had to borrow, having no actual hair himself. Second, he just “let it dry out” for the remainder of his trip, hoping that over time things would improve. He was still hopeful last week at his house, but I don’t think it will live to take another blog photo.

I am not the least bit aggravated about the camera. In fact, I find the whole thing very amusing. Being the over analytical mess that I am, I began to wonder why I wasn’t even a little bit put out about the whole thing. After all, it was a great camera.

You know what I discovered? Well, two things really. Isn’t it somehow easier to have grace for people who 1) do beautiful and sacrificial things for others and 2) have the same issues you have?

My Dad has given his life to serve other people - including me. As I grew up, he traveled all over the world to build and love. We had teenagers and young adults with drug and family problems live in our home. And he patiently and painstakingly raised two high maintenance girls (sorry, sister) and always had time to listen and counsel.

Of course, lest you think him perfect, he is NEVER on time, he ALWAYS loses anything that is important, he FORGETS appointments and anniversaries and daughters that are stranded at school waiting for a ride home because he is lost in a opera he is listening to on his stereo. You know, the very things I do.

Without doubt, it is far more difficult to extend grace to people we do not understand - who are not like us. I was thinking today about who I have difficulty loving, and not surprisingly, I have the most trouble with church people who refuse to see that the church exists for the world - not for choir parties, potlucks and rummage sales (although, who doesn’t love a good potluck?). They make me rethink my position on gun control.

So, today, I honor all those who have OCD’s (what I call people who value time) and care about wearing clothes that match and actually like Rush Limbaugh.

You must want to shoot me.