Midnight Conversations with God

Have you ever had your child preach to you?  And they made more sense to you than any preacher ever had?  My son spent the better part of twenty minutes after Sunday night dinner answering a lot of questions I had about life.  In his mind, the meaning of life is simple.  It is all about making God happy with the things we do in life.  He says that, “I wake up in the middle of the night and talk to God.  My eyes are open.”  “My heart and my soul are happy when they are talking to God.”  These are the words coming out of his mouth, while I listen with my mouth hanging wide open. 

The conversation starts with a common question that I pose to him frequently, “What am I going to do when you get all grown up?”  I figure he is going to shrug and answer, “I don’t know” just like he usually does and any kid would.  They think in the moment and don’t waste time on reflecting on the past.  Or so I thought. 

But, instead he answers without hesitation, “Mom, I will always be littler than you.”  I correct him.  “No, Tyler, one day, you will probably be taller than mommy.”  “No mom, that is not true,” he counters.  “I will always be your son.  I will always be littler.”   

I still think he is confused and continue my argument by reciting the facts that genetics are on his side.  He is most likely going to be at least 6 feet tall.  That is 5 inches taller than his mother.  “Tyler, one day, you will be all grown up and will look down to mommy.”  “No, mom, you will always be my mom, and I will always be littler than you.”  Then I realize that I am not having a literal, black and white conversation with my six-year old son.  We are speaking figuratively.  And, figuratively, he will always be littler than me.   In his mind, he wasn’t thinking about statistics of height.  He was thinking about my role in his life… that being my son was never going to change and that he was always going to look up to me. 

I stopped arguing and hung on his every word.  With each new point, he would pound his right fist on the marble dinner table. The fist pound was extra loud, because of his newly casted hand and forearm. (He broke his arm rough housing with his young uncle by being catapulted in the air and trying to land like a cat… only to land like a human and crack his human bone connected to his human wrist.  Another story for another time.)  “Even when I am all grown up and big, I will still be your son mom!”  Fist pound.  “Even when you are old and I have to take care of you, I will still be littler than you mom!”  Fist pound.  “Even when you die, your soul will be alive in my heart.”  Fist pound.  “Your soul will never die mom.  You will always be alive to me.”  I have to wonder what kind of conversations he is having in the middle of the night?? 

I interject, “How did you learn all this Tyler?  Who told you all of this?”  Surely he has heard this from someone.  “God told me!” he states presumptuously.  Of course I am supposed to know that he speaks to God on a regular basis.  He moves to a new subject with his didactic speech.  “God speaks to my heart mom.  This is what makes the heart and soul happy mom.  Helping people.  Just like you are doing with that girl at work.”  “What girl Tyler?”  He recalls the name, “You know, Ricky’s mom.”  He remembers when we were collecting unused toys around the house for Ricky, a boy his age who didn’t have as much as him.    

So my son deduced an absolute truth that many adults have yet to grasp about what makes the soul happy.  He shocked me with his comprehension on how we will always be connected as mother and child and he morphed that into a greater good… that we can become even happier by helping others. 

“Mom, you have learned a valuable lesson today,” he states matter-of-factly as he gets up from the dinner table.  He is abruptly finished with his speech.  He has laid out exactly what he thinks about life and death, and he is scared of neither.  In fact, for him, he thinks he has the inside track.  He listens to his heart and knows how to make his heart and thus, God, happy. 

Later that night, he comes up to me again while I am doing dishes.  “Mom, you should tell everyone what I taught you in that thing you do.”  “What ‘thing I do’?” I ask.  “That thing!” he repeats emphatically, like I should know by now how to read his mind.  He remembers the word he was looking for.  “That ‘blog’.”  “Okay, bud, I will,” I tell him.  Because we are connected and I want him to read this when he gets all grown up.

One Woman's Vision

I’ve met the most courageous, gracious woman who is a mother, a survivor, and a hero.  Five years ago, late in her pregnancy, she lost her sight to a rare disease called uveitis, an inflammation in the eye tissue.   She had to choose between medication that might treat the severe inflammation and her unborn child.  She chose the latter.  Today, while she has lost her physical eyes to this disease, she has gained a spiritual insight that knows no limits.  She lives for her son and struggles to carve out a better life for them both. 

She talks about her past and her journey.  She ran away from home at 16, lived on the streets, sold her body for drugs, and became an addict.  She tried to turn her life around, finished high school, started community college and got a fast food job.  Then her life suddenly changed.  She lost her eyesight when blood vessels burst in her eyes late in her pregnancy.  She states matter-of-factly, “Everyone has a journey.  This is mine.”  She looks at the bright side, counting her blessings, “If I would have never lost my sight, I would still be working at McDonald’s.”   After her loss of vision, she earned her GED.   She started a street ministry handing out sandwiches to the city’s homeless.  She won awards as a case worker helping people with disabilities find rewarding jobs.  Today, she is writing a book about her experiences.   She raises a five year old child, Ricky, who adores her and acts as her “eyes” in this world. 

Though her eyes are prosthetic and can be easily removed, as she showed me, I find that she does not need these organs to be the windows to her soul.  Her soul is wide open for all to see, through her smile, her speech, the tilt of her head.  She is a treasure to talk to and an inspiration to listen to as she uses her gift of communication to touch the deepest parts of one’s heart. 

At work, she hangs up a picture of her son, a son she has never physically seen.  As I look at the picture, I see that he looks a lot like my own son and l feel honored to share the same motherly love with this amazing woman.  I cannot imagine the daily struggles she has to overcome.  I watch her fight to stay positive, upbeat, and always moving forward. 

My troubles fit in a thimble compared to what my new friend faces daily.  But, her soul shines like a candle in a dark room.  The flood of problems that would normally drown someone in grief and self pity only makes her stronger against the current and triumphant in the end.

She wins in the end.  Yes, she has many difficulties to overcome.  But, she has what so many of us do not.  She has found her true self.  She has found her strengths, talents, and soul.  She has been driven to the end of herself and knows what it is to be lifted up from disaster and hopelessness.  She has hope and desire and passion for something bigger than herself.  Though she cannot see, she has more foresight than so many of us.  She has a vision more important than her physical vision, a vision of the soul. 

She is creating a new life for herself and her son.  She is singlehandedly breaking the generational cycle of addiction and abuse that she was subjected to as a child.  She is teaching her son the true meaning of love through her powerful example.  She is teaching a great lesson to everyone she comes in contact with – a hero is someone who sees beyond reality into the impossible and makes it possible.  In reality, she is the farthest thing from blind.  She sees the world and people for who they really are – people who need a chance and need to be loved.