Puddly

Rainy season in Nigeria leaves everything in varying shades of green. A few mangoes still cling to the naturally symmetrical trees and cows grace loudly on the hill behind our compound. There are puddles to play in, both in the mud and on the old tennis court where we play pickle ball every morning. One morning Zach said he'd take the puddle side of the court. Since it rains every day, it had been a long time I'd played without puddles. I knew how to manipulate the puddles and dig them out of a piddly bounce. I accepted! That was my mistake. After a stellar winning streak, I lost. I wasn't playing on my side, and yet, I didn't want to go back to the puddles either. I wanted to work to make it on this dry, easy-to-manuever surface that I had just discovered! Things were easier, yet, I had to find a different way to work.

The dry side

The puddle side

 

 

When we were wrapping up, I reflected on the experience. It was easy for Zach to choose to go to the puddle side. It was hard for me to go back to the puddle side. I didn't know how nice it was to not slip, dig, strain my brain to get across the court safely. If I'd never experienced it, I would have continued living contentedly with my puddles, something no one should really have to play pickle ball in. It's not safe and it's not really fair either. 

So it is for so many who find themselves living in a part of the world where having the bare minimum of shelter and food come through hard work, but at least they come. It is so difficult to think of going back to the puddles where it isn't really safe and no matter how hard you work, you may not reach your goal. If you do manage to, you often get really messy doing it and put yourself and those you love at risk. 

It's easy for someone from a puddle free environment to head over to the puddle side for a time, like my husband valiantly did. It's a choice. Most people living on the puddle side never have that choice, and they are often content living with the puddles because they have developed strength and resilience. In that process, if they are followers of Christ, they also tend to foster joy, a kind of joy that comes through struggle. The kind of joy that bubbles up in boistrous laughter and shining smiles. It still doesn't make it right. 

It would be audacious of me to tell someone who has found themselves living puddle free to say, "Go back and play in the puddles, you'll be fine, you've done it before."  By the time you've learned to play on a new side, your mind has adjusted, the returning is a whole other game.  In line with Romans 12, I pray that I may, "Not think of (myself) more highly than (I) ought, but rather think of (myself) with sober judgment, in accordance with the faith God has distributed to each of us. For just as each of us had one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, so in Christ we, though many, form one body, and each member belongs to all the others." (Romans 12:3-5) 

How would I treat a member of my body, think of them and their sacrifice, honor them in my prayers, and interact with them so they know that they are not alone in their struggle?  How can I respect the sacrifices they make to edify the body?  May God give us all wisdom.