There is this woman who bugs me. She’s nice enough, and she isn’t trying to bother me. I mean, she’s full of good intentions. It’s just that, sometimes, she’s filled with something else. I don’t even feel mean when I say that. Am I supposed to like everybody?
This woman was in trouble the other night. Buried in deadlines, she finds her car, of course, acting up. Having used emergency flashers at night when helping someone, she later discovered that her parking lights would not shut off. Fearing she would have a dead battery later, she fiddled with the gadgets inside the car, and called a friend for help. Finding no resolution, she went to bed. The dealership’s mechanic told her the next morning, “Ma’am, flip that switch on your steering column. That should do it.”
How embarrassing! She had inadvertently turned on the parking lights when looking for the emergency flashers in the dark. Now, she was relieved that the problem was solved, but anxious to find another example of her own inadequacy. Me? I just rolled my eyes.
I wish that woman were a stronger, more capable person because the worst thing about her is: she is me. But since “she” is occasionally my worst enemy, I’ll call her, “Jane.” How can Jane become a better friend to “me”? How can she find my, I mean her, strengths? Recently, a self-test revealed that Jane has “connectedness,” meaning the talent for bringing people together, and “arranging,” meaning the ability to assemble complexities, like a conductor. Completely lacking musical talent, what should she do with this new-found knowledge? The question begs questions. What is strength? Does it change from age to age? Like beauty, is it in the eye of the beholder? After web-searching “strength,” could we view countless video examples on youtube.com? Would we see calm in a crisis, or unabated passion? Is a person who doesn’t cry at the loss of a loved one strong or too weak to risk opening their heart or making an effort to know the person?
Folklore says, “If you want to know a person’s character, put them in hot water.” In this analogy, a coffee bean scores high marks for strength by transforming the water into something better, whereas a carrot just goes limp. The moral? Be the coffee!
When Jane panics that her parking lights won’t turn off, she is not “coffee.” Never mind the “carrot” either: Jane becomes a “whistling tea kettle.” My father “graduated” this month into his final resting place. Grief requires strength, and changes us, as coffee changes water. Things are never again the same. My father’s strengths made writing his eulogy a pleasure. He left his mark by living to the fullest, making both “coffee” and “noise.” Here lies the heart of the matter: God’s strength is made perfect in my weakness. Finding strengths comes from admitting my need. I become a better friend to myself by being His friend. Walking with God, I find my strengths.
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