Love Is Kind

When my sister was delivering my oldest niece, she was attended by the grumpiest L and D nurse on planet Earth. Quickly dubbed Nurse Ratchet, her favorite expression, as I recall, was "um, no."

I'd like my sister to be in the delivery room with me. Um, no.

I'd like something to drink. Um, no.

I'm feeling a little uncomfortable. Um, no.

Ice chips? Um, no.

Thankfully, change of shift rolled around, Nurse Ratchet skedaddled to be replaced by a kinder, gentler soul.

A few weeks ago our adult faith formation class watched a clip of Bishop Fulton Sheen talking about the unique call placed on nurses and doctors. Help care providers, he stated, have a special duty to be kind.

Unconditional Love brought to you by Indy.

My son John appreciates kindness. How did you like football? It was great. Uncle Nelson is nice. How's swimming going? Great. Coach Kathleen is nice. How was school? Awesome. Aunt Carolyn subbed, and she's nice.

From about age three on, my best friend was Susan Bennett who lived just up the street. Her mother was Marian Bennett. What I remember best about Mrs. Bennett was her piano playing and her kindness. She was just an upbeat person, not fake, but cheerful and kind. And I remember that fifty years later.

My Aunt Margaret is another nice person. She always welcomed me into her home. She smiled. She brought me a Popsicle when I was covered in the most hideous case of Poison Ivy ever. And I remember that forty-five years later.

We're all familiar with 1 Corinthians 13:4-8:

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. 

As we move into Quarantine, Week III, it is so very tempting -- so very human -- to be easily angered, to keep a record of wrongs, because at this point -- let's face it -- there's a whole lot that is wrong.

We're all a bunch of accidental homeschoolers very much like the Facebook Dad with veins popping out his temples hissing, "I said, 'Mary has five apples,  FIVE! APPLES!"

This isn't easy, folks. No, it's not. But let's try to be kind. And when we fail or when those around us fail, let's forgive.

Ephesians 4:32

Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you.

Exoskeletons and Endoskeletons and Hard Stops

Sometimes life issues us a Hard Stop.

You're pregnant and experiencing problems and your doctor says, "Go home. Get on the couch. Don't move." 

And you do it. 

For the love of your baby, all those pressing issues, the endless To Do List, all that pent up nesting instinct, all that is urgent and oh! so very necessary gets set aside instantly. 

Hard Stop.

You have a sick child. The plans get scrapped. The calendar clears. Or the calendar gets ignored.

Another walk?

Hard Stop.

We are now facing the mother of all Hard Stops.

Three weeks ago, I was facing the busiest week of a busy, busy year. We were en route to a college south of Atlanta for a literary competition. Our school began ramping up for this event last September. Auditions and rehearsals and permission slips and more rehearsals and a regional competition and a few last minute rehearsals and now it was time for the grand finale. For three of our students this was the final finale -- graduation was just around the corner. This would be their last trip to state.

We loaded up two vans with students, coaches, parents, and younger siblings. From the back of the van, we heard a plea for a bathroom break, and as I tried to text the second van, I spied an email from the competition director. 

Campus closed. Competition to be rescheduled.

Hard Stop.

That was the first in a long line of cancellations and postponements that has left the six Dolins -- and families the world over -- working and learning from home.

Hard Stop.

In my good moments, I view this as a unique opportunity to be a family. In the past fourteen days, we have sat down at the table together more often; we have prayed together more often; we have played more board games; Ainsley has baked up a storm. In short, there has been lots of good. (In the interest of full disclosure, I also spent most of one morning boo hooing).

My friend Chuck Hornsby often speaks of Exoskeletons and Endoskeletons. All of us have Exoskeletons that support us in various ways. Our churches, our larger faith communities, our jobs, our kids' schools -- we both build these structures and rely upon the strength, routine, familiarity, and love that comes from these sources outside of us, outside of our nuclear families. 

The Endoskeleton, by contrast, is an internal support system -- our nuclear families, our marriages,  our prayer lives, our thoughts, our habits, our methods of functioning and relating when the regular scaffolds of life fall away, if only temporarily.

Years and years ago, Elizabeth Foss was on bed rest while awaiting the delivery of her ninth child. She said that bed rest is like a family camping trip with an

uncanny knack for exposing the fissures within family life. I think the same can be said for quarantine.

So let's work on our Endoskeletons. Mine could use a bit of shoring up.