Juggling

"God doesn't call the equipped.
He equips the called."

Years ago, I was out for a summer night on the town with my friends at an upscale outdoor shopping destination. After wandering around outside for a while, we noticed a juggler performing in the center of a circle of spectators. He was riding a unicycle and juggling a bowling ball, a plunger and a bowling pin. His schtick was as quirky as the unusual trio of objects he was juggling. We were all mesmerized. His witty humor was the icing on the cake. How fun it must be to do that for a living, I thought.

A few years later I landed a job as a PR and programs coordinator for a local public library system. The best part of the job was planning a "Summer Fun" series of programs for kids (grades K-8). Given complete freedom, I was able to bring in some great storytellers, magicians, singing groups and performers. So my first year, I tracked down my favorite juggler and hired him. I was surprised to learn he actually lived in that community. He was, by far, the crowd favorite that summer. So I hired him again and again, year after year, though the rest of the entertainment line up changed. There was something so captivating and magical about him. Kids loved him. Adults loved him. He made us all laugh.

Several years into my job, we were setting up outside one summer Tuesday for his annual program when I looked over and saw that his young family had walked over (from home, presumably) to watch him. His young daughter ran ahead and jumped into his arms to hug him. His wife followed, pushing a wheelchair with a young boy--about 12 years old--with cerebral palsy. The juggler went over, greeted his son and kissed his head. The boy stared into the sky. The juggler grabbed his beanbags and began performing for his son, calling out his name as the beanbags flew higher and higher. The boy's face erupted in a wide smile and he began to laugh.

About the same time, some other friends of mine were struggling with the recent diagnosis of their young son's eye disorder. After months of traveling the west coast for tests and meetings with doctors, they had discovered that the type of disorder he had was genetic. "But why us?" they asked the specialist. "Why not you?" he answered.

It's interesting how God's plan for us is seldom what our plan for ourselves would've been. When faced with big challenges, we teeter on that thin line between comedy and tragedy. Which way will we fall? I think we are all inclined towards the idea that we are entitled to happiness all the time. When that doesn't happen, we say "That's not fair. Why me?" But that's where the trick lies. Blessings come in all shapes and sizes. Sometimes it may be a perfect little soul in a broken body. Or a father whose goofy talent for juggling plungers becomes a secret language of joy between him and his young son. The trick is in finding the gift.

Pursuit

Monday morning. I'm on a treadmill at the gym. (The fact that I've actually made it here on a Monday is remarkable.) I'm flipping through a magazine. After doing my usual 20 minutes, I stop and climb off. "PEDAL FASTER," says the treadmill monitor. I look at how far I've walked. 1.88 miles. "Oh, I didn't make my 2 miles today," I think ... letting the stupid monitor make me feel guilty. "Wait. I WALKED 1.88 MILES!," I think again. I mean ... HELLO ... I could've stayed in bed! I look at the monitor again. "PEDAL FASTER!" It is still screaming. "NO! I'm all finished today." I mentally scream back, feeling slightly empowered.

Later Monday. I'm leaving my local fav coffee shop. I glance at the promo poster for their new energy drink. "The best days in life go fastest. Keep up." "NO!" I mentally scream back at it. I mean, I beg to differ but, NO. Maybe I'm too old, but I'm pretty much done trying to "keep up." Not with the Joneses. Not with life. I'm finding my own pace here. Or trying to, anyway. What the heck is the point of keeping up? With what? It's not like we're GOING anywhere.

Wednesday evening. I'm sitting on the sofa and I see a commercial on TV. Images of fancy, expensive things. Then families. "Chase what matters." Now, I know that's a clever play on the company name and I appreciate the markting effort here, but there's that pursuit thing again.

Today. I'm driving to work this morning. I turn a sharp corner in a mostly industrial district and there is an elderly lady crossing (jay walking) the street with a cane. In her aqua blue-green bathrobe and slippers. "Hey ... hurry ... can't you see the traffic?," thoughts race through my head. Then I look to see what she's heading for in the gravel parking lot across from her house. There are two little black kittens ... strays, I think. One is playing coy. He's dancing on his tippy toes, arched back rubbing against a telephone pole. He's hoping she'll come pet him. She does. In her bathrobe. Crossing a busy street. Not keeping up. Not pedaling faster. Just chasing what matters to her ... the little joys in life.