Dancing Queen

I was late to church this morning. I know, I know. I don't really have a good excuse - I just was. I came in during the second half of the worship team's set, so I sat in the very back in front of the sound booth. I settled in, and I noticed that one girl, Mia, was dancing at the back of the sanctuary. Apparently before I arrived, Pastor said we could dance. Mia has Down Syndrome, I believe. I'm not great at guessing ages, but I'd put her around 11. (Edit: I've been informed that Mia is actually 27, but I'm leaving my initial impression to show what a youthful spirit she has.) She's always so joyful in her singing, so I wasn't remotely surprised to see her dancing as well. What a beautiful expression of love and joy. My thought in watching her was how sad it is that the rest of us are so inhibited that we would probably never be found twirling, waving our arms, and making sweeping gestures in front of (or behind) the congregation.

As soon as I thought that, the song died down, and the next one began. And Mia, to whom I had never spoken before, came over, grabbed my hands, and pulled me up to dance with her. She spun around with me, twirled me, and laughed with glee as I kicked out my legs whenever she did. I followed her lead, and we went round and round with joyful abandon. Toward the end of the service, she came back to sit by me, and when we stood to pray, she put first one arm around me, then both. I returned the hug, and we stood together. We walked back to the fellowship area after, arms still around each other, and I spoke with her mom for a few minutes about what a blessing our girls are.

Mia didn't know me before today. She didn't know my heart, or what was on my mind. And she had no idea how much I needed a little extra love and joy today. She just knew that she was dancing, and she was happy, and she pulled me in so that she could share that with me. And that, my friends, is how we should all be. We should share our happiness with others. Reach out. Compliment someone. Buy a $10 gift card for the store you're shopping in and hand it to the person in line behind you. Call someone just to let them know you're thinking about them. Dance with a child.

When I had to go, Mia didn't want to leave me, so I gave her a hug, and I told her that she can sit with me next week. I made a friend today. And I am so grateful to her for giving me that joy and love.

Caring Bigger

After the incident with the boy in the gorilla enclosure and the gorilla's subsequently being put down splashed all over the news a few days ago, I saw some friends on Facebook liking and sharing this status:

And it's been bugging me ever since. Don't get me wrong - I understand the basic sentiment. Gorillas aren't human. Human beings are dying in many ways all over the world - abortions, shootings, drug overdoses, cancer. Other primates may not be that high on anyone's priority list. But this way of thinking is something I see all the time that has always bothered me, and I believe God has put it on my heart to speak up about it.

Caring about two things is possible. Caring about 200 things is possible. Yet all too often, we dismiss the pain and suffering of others - human or otherwise - because it's not as important as whatever our top issue is. "How can you get upset about X when Y is happening?" It's meant to make sure we are focusing on the big issues. But it comes across as childish - "I refuse care about that kind of suffering or injustice until the kind I care about is addressed."

Let me tell you something - to the person who is suffering, it's not small. It's not less important than whatever issue is your standing ground. Imagine if someone had said to me when Meredith was going through her heart surgery "why are you so upset about that - don't you know there's a kid dying of leukemia two rooms over?" While it would be meant to put my suffering in perspective, what it really says is that my suffering doesn't matter. My life, my trials, are unimportant. If you were stabbed and I told you that I didn't care and refused to visit you in the hospital because someone else I knew had been shot, we likely wouldn't be friends for very long.

I care about genocide. I care about abortion. I care about a gorilla who by no fault of its own felt tasked with caring for a little boy who was in distress and did it the only way it knew how. I care about the mom who lost track of her son for long enough for that to happen. I care about the people who cared for the gorilla and had come to love it. I care about kids with colds, kids with cancer, and everyone in between. 

But really, I could have just stopped after "I care". God loves all of us. He cares about our struggles and our suffering. Haven't you ever prayed about something like a car that wasn't running right? Being a bit tight on money? A baby who just won't stop crying? God would never tell you that he won't hear your prayer until he's addressed the bigger issues. It's ok to have a cause. It's wonderful to be a bastion of hope and a champion for those who need it. But don't let your cause blind you to the rest of the world. We all matter. Even the gorillas.