Plastic Grass

Feel free to blame the following message on too much time ALONE with my neurotic thoughts and the need to unload them on someone. Congratulations, by the way, on being one of the few to carry the burden of my craziness. I in no way mean to be morbid or depressing. Hopefully this sharing will be cathartic for me and possibly even some sort of blessing to each of you. That is my intention anyway. I come in peace.

In order for you to understand the point that I am trying to make (i.e. get the punch line at the end), I need to share with you what I mean by the phrase “plastic grass.” I do not take credit for the wisdom/conviction that this phrase now holds for me (and my sister), no that honor belongs to a young man who is considered less fortunate in the world’s eyes and is a friend of my 11 year old nephew, Joseph. My sister, like many of us, has some “decorative” grass in a pretty container sitting on an antique sideboard in her dining room. One day when the aforementioned young man was visiting Joseph, he noticed the grass and proceeded to question Robin about it. In his innocence, he was most curious about how she managed to keep each blade of grass cut to the exact same length. Realizing his honest mistake, Robin smiled and gently informed him that the grass is not real – it is plastic. Out of the mouth of babes…… He looked up at Robin with even more confusion and simply asked, “Why?”

Exactly. Why?

How ridiculous it must have seemed to this wise little boy that a grown woman would place enough importance on something as unnecessary as plastic grass that she paid money for it and then displayed it in her home. How many things/activities/worries do we devote our time, money, energy and life to that would be considered just another batch of plastic grass? Not wrong in and of themselves, but definitely unnecessary and unimportant when measured against eternity or even our short time here on earth.

Now onto the actual message that has been heavy on my heart for the last few months……

After having a nice cry on the phone with my sister over the death of a teenage boy from her church that I have never met and discussing with her all the difficult yet amazing things that happened in the lives of the family, friends, church family and even strangers over the past week – I got to thinking. I know, I know, never a good idea for me to allow such things, but alas maybe something good will come of it for once. I got to thinking about all the people and families on my prayer list right now that are dealing with death – either the prospect of it in the many young mothers I know of right now who are battling some sort of cancer or the actuality of it in the loss of a son in a tragic car accident or the tiny casket of a precious baby boy who went to be with the Lord on February 24th while being rocked by his mommy with his daddy at his side. In any case, I was struck yet again by a TRUTH that came up in the conversation I had with my sister…..

It is an awesome privilege to KNOW and to be KNOWN.

The thought first came to me as Robin (my sister) was describing some of the items that Dallas’ (the teenager who passed away recently) young aunt brought to the church in memory of him. Of course, there were countless pictures of birthday parties, but she also included his favorite baseball cap and numerous cans of Red Bull (funny story behind that, right?). How did she decide what to bring, how did she know? Because Dallas was KNOWN to her. It hit me then, how blessed that I am to have and to KNOW “little” people in my life that if I allowed myself even for a second I could begin the list of things that I would remember them by. Because I KNOW them. What an honor and privilege I have to really KNOW Nicholas, Joseph, Lauren and Isabel (my nephews and nieces) and Emmylou Grace. And the equal honor and privilege it is to be KNOWN by them.

After I hung up the phone, I continued that thought to all the precious “big” people in my life. My mind was immediately overwhelmed by the thought of people literally all over the United States and even the World who KNOW me and undoubtedly would bring some of the quirkiest things imaginable to a service in remembrance of me. I thank God for the memories and even the belly laughs, who am I kidding, the full blown guffaws that will take place over the crazy that is Misty. Steven will be well taken care of (he doesn't yet realize that I will be going first).

In the midst of my joyful reverie, a cloud lingers. The darkness that we struggle against here on our most recent assignment in little B-town. We do not truly KNOW, nor are we KNOWN here.
I will not belabor all the reasons why we have allowed this to happen. Just take my word for it that the major contributor is the busyness of everyone's lives. Busy working. Busy raising kids. Busy with every activity imaginable. Busy building our castles in the sand. Busy chasing rainbows. Busy going to church even. Too busy for one another.

Do me a favor - stop toiling long enough to get your hands dirty in someone else's life. Strive only to KNOW and be KNOWN, first by the King of Kings then by those precious people already in your life.

Everything else is just plastic grass.