To surpass the everyday

It's May 1st. The first day of the month. Here we are. Welcome.

In China, the country takes a breath. Holiday. Families go to the park to smell the flowers. We gear up for the plan of going camping. We might even buy some real hotdogs. It could be a significant event.

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In Canada, records turn out to vote. The early birds came out in flocks. The people are speaking. The issues? I don't know. I'm over here.

Facebook encourages me to get behind a cause. The cause for change. Seems to me that the NDP would be change. Rumor has it that they are actually more popular than the Liberals. And that's crazy, because the Liberals are the Liberals. From what I am told, Harper is the Devil, Layton is a sex maniac, and Iggy is an American. Can we vote for K-naan?

"Dear Africa, you helped me write this by showing me to give is priceless"

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In Libya, people are getting killed at funerals. Freedom is getting pushed into an open grave. No mourning allowed.

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This is life. The world turns and the lights come on in the morning. Blessings and curses. Joy and pain. Justice and the lack there of.

And we are the servants. Taking vessels to the masses. Cutting the grass with scissors. Tossing our cupped hands into the ocean of need.

My biggest contribution to this need is to ignore it. I'm not proud of that, but what can be done? If I can throw one starfish back into the ocean what does it matter when the other ones are begging until death for such mercy?

But who can bare this burden? Even when Jesus was around people still died. Lonely and mercilessly. Once he died and rose we had a better chance at carrying it.

Is there guilt here? You bet. I live among the poorest and my kid wears Adidas.

So I go out there and give a homeless/crazy man a bottle of yogurt and a package of crackers. I hold it out to him. Him, squatting on the sidewalk, looks up to me like he's looking at a ghost. Maybe one of the figments in his mind that he talks to all of the time has finally shown up.

Human interaction is tough for an introvert like me. Human interaction is tough for someone who lives in their own world every day scraping out the garbage for food. Human interaction is tough for someone who most people would consider worthless and not really human at all.

He looks at this ghost with an expressionless face; not easily tricked. This ghost places the bag at his feet and floats away. I might as well have placed that bag at the base of a tree, or an alter. Not knowing if the offering was sufficient.

What can one man do? One ordinary man like me. Is the world set in it's ways? Will we ever give more than we can afford to? Will we ever give to the extent that we would have a faint idea of what it's like to give more than we can afford to?

Jesus said that when you are doing something for someone in need, you do it for him. So, when I was handing out the snacks was that quizzical look Jesus himself, curious as to what I was doing? Based on my track record, this was unlike the usual me.

Did I read him wrong? Was he speechless in a "you don't do this that much but I appreciate it none the less" kind of look? Maybe that was him, looking through the eyes of one crazy man onto another. I mean, I didn't know what to say either. I dropped the bag and ran away. Maybe it blinded me a bit. Being in the presence.

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The sun came out this morning. It rose over the North East mountain outside of our kitchen window. This Faithfulness is something that I am reminded of today. That that very sun will peak through our window once again tomorrow. And, again tomorrow, I will have the opportunity once more to be good. This is the mercy I had been looking for.

May 1st. A new month. My 30th year. I shudder to think about what a selfish person I've been. That, if I think about it and really lay on the guilt, what good have I ever done? Through the guilt I come to the other side. Though I think that sometimes it's good to spend a contemplative moment in the guilt. It's literally the least I could do.

But when I come through the other side I see something more. If mercy is poured out to me, then how much more to those that have yet to receive it? It's there, hanging over their heads like a storm cloud, waiting for me to pull the string. This privilege is something that I get to walk in every day. Oh, that I may not forget it.

Spring makes things new. Trees resurrect. Birds come out of nowhere to sing just because they have a song. Rain washes away the dirt praise the Lord it does. It's springtime. It's May, and I was born here.