Chronologically, the next awkward moment of my life comes from my junior year of high school. I was taking a child development class, which I remember really enjoying. However, on this particular day, we had a student teacher visiting the class who gave a presentation on childbirth. Yes - the miracle of life, everyone. That beautiful moment when a watermelon flies out of a pinhole.
Anyone who knows me well knows that I could pass out cold at the sight of a needle. So do not come near me if you want to talk about the birthing process. It makes my extremities tingle. It makes me shut my eyes and shake my head back and forth really fast as if I don't have the ability to simply say "please stop talking before I find myself laid out on the floor." I once had to tell my hairdresser to shut up and get me a cup of water because she got a little too detailed about what it's like to have a massive ice pack soothing your swollen lady parts that just expelled a human being. Don't get me wrong, I love children and dream about the days I will have my own. They are already named. However, my love for them will be shown through the fact that I give birth to them in the first place because making it through an experience such as that, for me, will be the miracle of my own life.
So you can imagine how this presentation went for me. I really was okay for quite a while, and thankfully there weren't any videos, pictures, or diagrams for me to shut my eyes for. But apparently that wasn't enough for me that day. All I needed was to hear some descriptions and picture it for myself. I have literally no idea what this girl said that sent my eyes to the back of my head, but something about c-sections did not sit well with me. I felt myself get nauseous, the blood rush to my ears, and started blacking out. Just as I was about to announce that I was going down, I was waking up on the hard, cold, tiled floor of the classroom with my teacher, the student teacher, and the school nurse looking over my pounding head, which felt kind of like it had gotten struck by a Mack truck. Happy times!
I'm not quite sure which was more painful, the consistent throbbing of my head or the permanent image of the other twenty-five people in my class staring at me as if I were a car accident. Let's just say the latter still haunts me to this day. But in that moment as I was feeling both, the nurse wheeled me out the door in a wheelchair and through the halls of school, right past the gym where a blood drive just happened to be that day. As I was scooted by the doors, a girl my droopy, sullen face and attempted to encourage me with, "Aw! It's okay! At least you tried!"
Gee, that might have been somewhat uplifting if I had given blood that day. My timing is impeccable.
The saga continues. I go to the nurse's office, who decides to send me home for the day, and waited the next half-hour for my Dad to come pick me up. He finally arrived to rescue me from my embarrassment, right on time for the student teacher to walk in from her presentation. Before I left, she gave me the lovely news that my little incident would have to be included in her paper for class.
"But don't worry," she assured me, "I won't use your name. You'll just be 'student A', who passed out during the c-section slide."
So there I was. Student A.
It's an honor, really.
You see, right about there is when I thought it all couldn't get any worse. But it somehow did, because when I walked into class the next day, out of all twenty-five students and the teacher, how many people do you think asked me if I was okay?
One. And it had been over Facebook the night before.
But I'm thankful for that one girl. Over those four years, I really didn't talk to her very much. But whenever her name comes up, I always think to the time she sent me a simple little message asking how my head was feeling, saying it was really scary to watch and that she was worried about me. It was such a small thing to do, and yet I still remember it five years later. It still means a lot. At the time, she probably had no clue she would be the only person to ask, and that I would remember it all this time later. Thank you, Monica.
It makes me wonder how many times I've given up short and sweet opportunities to be a Monica to someone else, assuming someone else will do the job or that it won't make a difference. But on that day when I needed some encouragement, it wasn't from one of my friends. It was from someone who was checking up on a classmate she barely knew, just out of the kindness of her heart. Why do we hold back from doing that more often? It is out of pride? Is it just too uncomfortable? Whatever our excuses are, none are good enough.
John 13:34-35 reads,
"A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another."
People, this is SO important. First of all, this is a command, not an option. Jesus didn't say, "Love one another, if you're feeling up to it that day." That's not how he does it. So if we are to love as he has loved us, this has to be a constant, daily decision that we make. To love like Christ is to love everyone - not selecting who we find deserving of it based on what we know about them or whether or not they've loved us properly. This is how people will see that we're different. You know the song - "they will know we are Christians by our LOVE." Not by our WWJD bracelets, not by the judgmental picket signs held in the city streets, not by the crosses on our neck. This is where people are getting it wrong. This is why those who claim they know Jesus are getting a negative rep - because we are forgetting the most important piece of our faith: love. And we can start fixing this by making the choice to be somebody's Monica next time we get the chance.
And of course, I give you the song of the day. I choose this artist because it's one I've always loved, but have found an increased appreciation for since seeing him live over the summer. His beautiful work is different than any other artist for me, as it always forces me to go beyond just listening to the music and allowing it to make me feel something. His lyrics are truly an art as he reflects his faith in quiet, yet attention-grabbing undertones. I hope they touch you too.
"With golden string our universe was brought to life,
that we may fall in love every time we open up our eyes..."
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