i won't go on and on and perhaps this won't come out all edited and well articulated, but here goes.
so the boyfriend and i started reading Ecclesiastes last week. we only read the 1st chapter. i'll paraphrase here so you'll have to go look it up later and read it on your own.
verse 2 -meaningless, meaningless. utterly meaningless. everything is meaningless.-
sara's edition adds: "unless it is from God."
this verse rang throughout my brain and heart every day since we read it, causing me to examine my life.
what is meaningless?
what do i desire,
long for,
chase after,
that is not of God,
and therefore,
meaningless?
i try to live a pretty simple, non-materialistic life, so i'm not gonna lie... i patted myself on the back a little, but also grateful that first of all, i have Jesus and second of all, that he makes himself and his ways available to me known through prayer and the bible. He lead me to my job: to help homeless people - not meaningless. He gave me the skills and desire to lead my special choir: love them! - not meaningless. my relationships with others: i try to be encouraging and point others to Jesus - not meaningless. i feel blessed to be able to do what i like, what i'm good at, AND find meaning in it. i'm not saying i live this perfect, harmonious life that is perfectly in tune with God's will 100% of the time.
most of what i do,
when done in my own strength,
is exhausting.
i told krispy today that if what i do is indeed not meaningless, and truly of God, then he obviously has a secret supply of energy that he gives me to do his work.
so i serve as a volunteer guardian for 2 women with developmental disabilities. both very different, both have very unique needs. i spent a little bit of time with each woman over the past few days and realized that
i'm
all
these
women
have.
not being conceited, but without me as their guardian, both would be on a waiting list for the state-agency that is guardian for those that have
no family,
willing or suitable,
to serve as guardian - and though the great people that work there have huge caseloads and want to do good for their people - its their job and there's only so much they can do.
this little "volunteer thing" i do,
to make decisions on their behalf,
to oversee their care,
to ensure that their money is being spent in the most appropriate ways,
to advocate for them to have the best quality of life possible,
and on and on,
though they will never know or understand,
is certainly
not meaningless,
to them.
today i met for the first time and i fell in love with the one woman.
she's in a wheelchair,
her body is contorted,
she doesn't speak,
her clothes were quite dated,
she bangs her head,
she has a feeding tube,
probably wears a diaper,
she has some disorder that causes boil-looking growths on her face and her brain,
she can't even hold eye contact for more than about 3 seconds,
but
she has the sweetest,
heart melting smile ever! -
and she depends on me to speak on her behalf.
this little volunteer thing i do just got a little more serious.
especially when i escorted the day program director in to view her 2 staff people conversing and paying no attention to the 15 people in wheelchairs parked around a TV. just because my ward can't talk or walk doesn't mean she's less of a person or she shouldn't be paid attention to or invested in. yes, we all say "ya, she's no less of a person! of course!"
but she literally has
no one to speak for her.
n o b o d y
cares for this woman.
her own father lives in another state and doesn't see her.
today, i saw her like Jesus sees me and my heart skipped a beat.
i felt helpless,
but empowered.
i love her like Jesus loves me (and you).
i can't sit back and be ok with the status quo for my wards.
Jesus doesn't give up on us when we let the boils of anger, stubbornness pride, lust, drunkenness or selfishness grow over our hearts.
i would have had no one to speak on my behalf, if it hadn't been for Jesus.
to Him alone,
my life is owed.
sandy bowers, call me again when someone else needs a guardian.
there is always room for 1 more, [at the cross].
