Thursday, 26 September 2013

My Dad...a Thousand Words

“There are some people who could hear you speak a thousand words 
and still not understand you.
And there are others who will understand without you even saying a word.”

I read this quote the other day, it affected me.  I find it true.  I find it sitting in my heart and filling my mind; I take it in and feel every nuance about it.  Some people know me, they know the words I use and they understand me even when I don’t use those words, they just know.  I love that.  But there are others, those who hear me speak and don’t get it, they can’t take it in, they don’t know what I’m saying, even if I do use a thousand words. Nothing will make them understand.  Their ears, and hearts and minds are closed to me; nothing I say will make them understand.  I’m okay with that.  I’m not made to fit into every one’s space.

The Greek word for understand is Suniemi which “strictly denotes the collecting together of individual features of an object into a whole, as collecting the pieces of a puzzle and putting them together.

Putting the pieces of a puzzle together requires the ability to see the whole picture, knowing exactly what will be made once the pieces are placed there, sometimes there is a pattern to copy, sometimes there are hints of what to expect and sometimes it is a matter of trial and error and guessing, longing for the pieces to fit one way but knowing they never will… each piece has its own place to go.  Once the last piece is put into place the picture is clear, every piece fits, yes, and now we know.

On Sunday, Andrew talked about Lego pieces fitting together,  a different kind of fitting, anything can be made with these kind of pieces and it will always be right, it will always be good, not perfect but good, each piece fitting to the other, made for one another…I love that.  We all want to be a Lego piece, I think, rather than a puzzle piece, fitting together any which way we can, but we also want to be understood and placed right there in that exact space, the one that holds the shape that belongs to me, to you.

My dad is lying in a hospital bed, he has been there for 6 weeks and he is changing every day.  Every day he moves further away, into his own world, but we know him.  We understand him in the ways that we have known him, what he likes to eat, how he likes to sleep, the words he is likely to say, and the way he will most probably respond. We know him.  But we can’t understand him, the words he uses are many; a thousand words but we don’t know what they are.  His hands are constantly moving, holding, folding, reaching, wanting…my father’s hands.  If I put my hand in his he will hold it, sometimes tight, but sometimes no, no touching, his hands are working to tell the story of his one thousand words…the words we can’t understand.

Right now my Dad is a puzzle piece that doesn’t seem to fit, we can’t understand him.  But he is also a Lego piece, he fits together with us, just the way he is,  it’s not perfect but it is good…we were made for one another no matter which way we fit.

“And we know that all things work together for good to those that love God.”     
Romans 8:28

I love that.