HELP!
I hear him before I set eyes on the man once wholly my Daddy, now mentally disfigured by what the world let in—
How curious that this is the scene that seeps into the crevices of my recent days.
There is no great wall that separates us from Heaven and Hell, only a door that we choose to open. I see my own reflection in the glass and I marvel that I am upright at all given the circumstance.
From the lobby I hear the distant, “Help!” Four little letters, one voice resonating through corridors like insistent church bells. Walls dissolve. Even those despondent in their wheelchairs lift their gaze.
I brace myself for the full-force impact of this other universe where time stands still.
Simultaneously I am mortified and mesmerized as I race past dining hall and craft room toward the insistent shout connected to his warm embrace.
I am comforted in remembering that nothing has changed about him except the residency of pieces of his mind.
“Help!” Those who know nothing of the reality of this once dignified man dismiss this all-consuming outburst as faulty triggers, broken synapsis, the breakdown that accompanies the “too much” of the 86 year old life.
But I know what this really is—
this bold refusal to ignore that something is terribly wrong.
this seeming deficiency showing up as something impossibly strong.
this otherworldly knowing, this one foot in an invisible, Heavenly plane.
this indictment of shallow pretense, nothing left to lose or to gain—
“Help!” This was the beautiful clamour of the human spirit swinging its fists. This is the sound of a bold veracity that resists.
I am my Daddy’s daughter. Determined to be more like him. He was the thinker and writer of his day. He was the generation of boldness, refusing to be silent when there was so much to be said. He was the distiller of prophetic wisdom into meaningful conversation over breakfast, at parties, with his three grandsons.
In the end, the word that came like fury over all others was one I sense we are all crying out NOW.
“Help!”
I feel it burning like a thousand embers on my tongue.
Still there are so many days like this one that I sit in front of the keyboard and wait for the right words to come.
In my mind I push the glass door open and force myself to listen to his repetitive refrain—
this bold refusal to ignore that something is terribly wrong.
this seeming deficiency showing up as something impossibly strong.
this otherworldly knowing, this one foot in an invisible, Heavenly plane.
this indictment of shallow pretense, nothing left to lose or to gain.
How extraordinary that this revelation rains like fire in my belly now...that this chorus of a single word was cried out not on behalf of his own condition but on behalf of the world he sacrificed, fought for, loved.
I am struck that there can be no greater travesty than to toss aside the things that we don’t understand or disagree with, to diminish and depreciate the glorious indefinable that is not, can never be, of this earth.
“Help,” throws open doors and lets in a vulnerability that is necessary as breath.
It invites us to sit in a quiet room and listen for a deep wisdom often disguised as anger, guilt, regret.
“Help,” demands that we fight the urge to flee…in the face of the hard moment. Even in the face of death.
As I lay my hands on the keys I remember this privilege, this witness to the excruciating process of giving birth to the spirit, so like bringing three boys into the world.
We labor to come here and then to leave it in the end.
Living, like birthing, is messy business, rarely accomplished without crying out.
“Help!” An old man. A new mother. Earth.
May the strength of my voice, and not the perfection of my words, define me in the end.
Psalm 19-14
Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart Be acceptable in Your sight,
O LORD, my strength and my Redeemer.
NOTES:
Often, we look back on a particular time in our lives and discover a hidden message that was originally missed.
This blog represents one of those revelations.
If you are a regular reader you know that I intertwine my own story with meaningful events of the day.
It was both an honor and a great grief to write about my daddy, Jim Knox, particularly now.
This story is as much about this time in all our lives as it is about him.
LESSONS LEARNED FROM JIM
1. Be Curious— Read everything you can get your hands on. Never settle on what you think you know. Look for ways to grow and evolve. Talk to everyone. Learn about them. Understand their perspective but never accept ignorance born of an unwillingness to learn. Don’t be afraid of the deeper conversations. Seek out others who are curious. Never stop growing.
2. Be True— Be true to yourself. Adapt what you know while keeping character a constant. Be true to your faith even when what is experienced tells you otherwise.
3. Be Ready— Ready to act. Ready to help. Ready to stand. Ready to act. Ready to support. Ready to speak.
4. Be Loyal— To God first. To Country (a very close second).
5. Be Certain— Of what you would live and die for. Of facts, not opinion. Of whom your people really are.
6. Be Courageous— Never be afraid of learning something. Be willing to say you're sorry or you were wrong. Be more willing to say you’re not sure. Be willing to stand up for what you believe not matter the consequence. Be willing to march on the front line or into hell with a squirt gun for a friend.
7. Be Ok with Being Alone— Take time to reflect. Don’t count on the agreement of others. Never crave running with the pack. Don’t value the opinions of others more than the truth you know. Be willing to walk away. Be ok with being unpopular.
8. Be the First— To take a stand. To speak. To serve. To love.
9. Be Bold— Toss aside concern over what others think. Act instead of only speak. Be real. Be you.
10. Pay Attention— Care about what’s going on around you. Listen. Live outside of yourself. Expand your view. Watch your back. Read everything. Listen to your inner voice. Notice. Do not dismiss what is noticed. Expect to hear from God.
11. Share— Share your heart. Share your resources. Share your voice. Share your mind. Share the truth. Share your home. Share your time.
12. Recognize— True love. True friends. Life is short. Time is precious. Purpose is everything. You are here for a reason. Meaning comes from caring. What you care about will define you. What you don’t care about can destroy you. Everything matters. Taking things seriously is under-rated. What you do matters. You may never know how much you were right.