The Fragile Things
Willy, a talented artist, potter, and friend of mine, had her first art show. Friends and family were invited to the preopening reception. Willy’s five-year-old godchild, Megan, was led carefully through the gallery while her mother pointed out each piece, telling her not to touch anything that might break. At the end of the day, Willy asked Megan, “What do you like best of all the things you see here?” Megan leaned forward and whispered, “I want to touch the fragile things.”
After the art show I got a phone call from my mother. “Honey, Grandmother passed away tonight.” We’d all been expecting it. She was ninety-one years old. But just the day before, she had been correcting my grammar and teasing the nurses saying, “It sure is hard to be a princess around here.” And I sat on the bed with tears in my eyes and thought “Life is so very frail. I want to touch the fragile things.”
We all want to touch “the fragile things,” but so few of us take the time to do so. Many times we fail to recognize fragile things when we see them.
Jesus took the time to touch the fragile things. He took the time to play with the children. He took the time to notice the lilies, swaying fragrantly in the field. He took the time to notice a baby sparrow that had fallen to the ground. He took the time to notice the number of fine gray hairs on an old man’s head. He took the time to hold the hands of a little girl and time to weep with a grieving family.
Most of life is centered on attaining fragile things, but we often lose sight of their true meaning and begin to sacrifice ourselves to the process of acquiring them or their substitutes.
I visited an art exhibit at the Museum of Contemporary Art in La Jolla where the photographs of diamond mine workers deep in South Africa was on display. I found it ironic that the jeweler next door to the museum seized upon this marketing opportunity by displaying with great fanfare and steep prices his glittering jewels. The photographer had focused on one of the struggling mine workers who had wrapped a purple towel around his glistening forehead. He photographed beads of sweat running down the worker’s trembling legs, straining under the burden of rocks that were too heavy. The photographer zeroed in on a scraped knuckle that had been left unattended in the rush to carry out the diamond-bearing ore. The artist was showing us the true “fragile things.” Yet these were not the things we could wear on our fingers.
Jesus warned about a generation that was always out looking for signs but missing the breezes. He told us about a place and time where all tears would be wiped away. Where the lion would lie down with the lamb. Where everyone would know and appreciate the fragile things.
Every leader must remember, always, to seek and touch the fragile things.
LBJ ~ Live. Breathe. Joy.
Thoughts and Questions
What are some of the fragile things you are holding after the election this week?
