Through the roof…

For some gardening is therapeutic. Others it’s the gym. Others it’s at the piano or singing at the top of their lungs in the shower. Maybe it’s dance or reading. For me, it’s writing. I don’t imagine anyone but a few close friends will even read what I write so for me, it’s therapy. It takes the voice in my head and puts it on paper and I think what I’m finding over the past months, that’s a big part of the battle.

It’s as if the difference between standing in the middle of a busy freeway versus standing off to the side of that same freeway. One feels threatened, the other just observes, “that’s a lot of cars going pretty fast”.

Ever since Brint was 12 he has been standing in the middle of a freeway. It’s time he step to the side of the road. The cars won’t stop, the cars are real, they aren’t “lies”, they are just…cars. They are neither good nor bad, they just are. Unless of course I try to run out in the middle of the freeway.

He got a message early on due to a couple of events that his life was to be in the middle of the freeway and the only way out of there was to play a life long game of Frogger, where he was the frog. Until recently. Recently friends decided he needed help to get off the freeway to get some perspective and so they did what the paralyzed man’s friends did. They cut a hole in a roof and lowered him down to meet…Jesus. I have great great friends.

So many narratives I have created with that story in my head. Do you think the paralyzed man called his friends over when he heard Jesus was in town and said, “Hey, could you guys help me out and take me over to that guy and see if he can help me?”. I don’t think so. Why…because I wouldn’t have. I would have felt like a burden to my friends and family as it was.

I’m pretty sure those 6 friends (I’m choosing 6 just because…well, if you’re reading this you probably already know my warped reasoning) didn’t ask. I bet one of them came up with the idea and went to the rest and they hatched the plan. Pretty simple. Just carry their buddy over to where Jesus was. Shouldn’t be a big deal. Then…it became a big deal. Why? Because the place was packed! And you know who crowded the doorway? Not other cripples. Not the sick. It was the “religious” types. How ironic. The one who needed Jesus couldn’t get to him because of the group that didn’t believe in him and ultimately wanted him dead.

But that didn’t stop them. This is where we find out that these were not mere casual friends. These 6 friends did something I’m absolutely sure the paralyzed man didn’t want. I can just hear him….because I can hear the voice in my head. “Thanks guys, you’ve done enough, I really appreciate it, but…” It’s that voice, that as I type causes tears. He hated being a burden. He hated being a burden more than he loved life. He would rather suffer in silence than put someone out or ask for help. His suffering was just part of him. He didn’t know any different. Frankly, the idea of not suffering was not an idea to be entertained. Too risky. Hope deferred makes the heart sick.

His friends were undeterred. They like mine, are GREAT friends. They somehow got him up on the roof of the house Jesus was in and cut a hole in the roof and lowered their friend down right in front of the Christ. Can you imagine that?? Too many thoughts about that to type here. But for sure 4 separate reactions. One is the religious types who were for sure going to be annoyed. People who needed help were outwardly given compassion but inwardly given judgment. Two is the house owner…I imagine him right now in heaven still telling that story. Three is Jesus and I’m absolutely certain he had a slight grin on his face. The last is the man being lowered through a roof. What was he thinking??

I will let you know after today…