A Whole New Light
(I)nasmuch as ye have done it unto
one of the least of these my
brethren,
ye have done it unto me.
-- Matthew 25:40
My husband's company just had their office Christmas party.
It's so much fun to put names with faces, share office lore with unsuspecting
newcomers, and watch the two oldest employees unexpectedly leaving the
whippersnappers in their partying dust. I couldn't believe my eyes: they were
impersonating Elvis on karaoke and Patrick Swayze on the dance floor ,while
everybody roared their approval and raised their lighted cellphones on high.
You see people in a whole new light at office parties like
that. And that's a good thing. Wish every workday could reveal interesting
things like that about our co-workers. Maybe, if we try, it can.
When I was fresh out of college, I attended my first office
party in the summertime, around an Olympic-size swimming pool. I had done some
competitive swimming and was in pretty good shape. A co-worker at least 40
years my senior - the Pillsbury Dough Boy's grandpa in swim trunks -- challenged
me to a race. I didn't think he could make one length without having a heart
attack. If I held 'way back, I could at least grant him a gentleman's tie.
As if. He shocked me with an incredibly strong racing dive
and was two body lengths ahead of me within the first few strokes. I 'bout bust
a gut and he still beat me by a lot. Everybody laughed and clapped, including
me. Who knew? As I watched him high-five the other office fogies over beating
the flat-bellied young cub reporter, I realized I had a lot to learn about the
adult world.
I saw him in a whole new light. It was nice.
A few years later, at another job, I worked with an older woman
whose personal life was somewhat of a mystery. She was short and lean, with
big, expressive eyes and a beautiful, deep voice. She had a lot of wrinkles on
her face. I wondered if she used to be a drinker, or if she had had a lot of
problems that showed up, not in her conversation, but on her face.
Her only indulgence seemed to be the nuclear-strength coffee
at the downtown cafeteria where we had lunch. We had a nice friendship, even
though she wouldn't let me in very far to know the real her.
Years later, I learned she had a habit of picking up bums
off the street downtown, one at a time. She would take them to a fleabag hotel,
pay for a few months' rent, set them up with sacks of groceries, and arrange for
cab fare to and from the employment office.
Then she would check on them every so often. No lectures, no
sermons: just friendly visits that proved she believed in their worth. When the
time was up, she would find another poor soul, and do it again. She must have
helped dozens of people in this personal, compassionate and private way.
She never went to church and didn't talk about religious
matters. She wasn't high and mighty. She never said a word about this quiet
charity, in all the years I worked with her. She never got her picture in the
paper or a plaque, nor did she want that kind of attention.
I sensed it was a "there but for the grace of God go I" type
of deal. Truly beautiful.
You know, our society casts the spotlight on celebrities, millionaires
and big-shot philanthropists, but never on everyday people who quietly,
steadfastly do things like that, just because it's the right thing to do. Lots
of times, they're the people at the next desk or in the next car . . . everyday
heroes . . . low-key saints.
We all need to see each other in a whole new light, the way
she did, and treat each other accordingly, as if there are special things about
each person that we don't know yet.
Because there are.
Let's all do that: go about our daily lives seeing those
around us in a different way, expecting secrets to be revealed n a good way.
Let's walk around in a whole new light, and share that light with others.
You won't get applause and accolades here on Earth - but
they'll be singing your praises up at the heavenly karaoke bar, and that's the
one that counts. †
