Be the Sermon
June 20, 2018
Often, other people’s words inspire me. I found such words on Father’s Day, when I read a post on Facebook from my friend, Eric Littleton. My husband and I have known Eric, and his wife, Marci, for more than 40 years. Eric’s book, Solomon’s Gift details the resiliency, faith, and compassion of Eric and Marci and their family after one of their twin sons, Solomon, contracted a rare neurological disease. In Eric’s words, the Littleton’s were living the “American Dream,” prior to Solomon’s illness. They were college-educated, had lived and traveled internationally, had a successful business, lived in a nice house in a nice neighborhood in Oklahoma, had a nice vacation lake house, drove nice cars, attended a nice Church of Christ, had beautiful twin boys and a daughter, and had plenty of money, savings and a retirement account. Then one of the twins slowly began to get sick, and everything changed. I don’t want to retell the Littleton’s story here because it is worth reading Eric’s articulate and eloquent words. The book is available on Amazon.
Typically, Eric posts very positive messages on Facebook. Almost every day, he posts a “thought for the day,” that includes inspirational quotes. But on Father’s Day, he started his post with the words, “This may be an uncharacteristically somber post, so bear with me.” Of course, I was intrigued and continued to read his unusually lengthy post, which does bear repeating.
My intent is not to play the victim...we will never do that. My intent is not to pander for sympathy...we have the most amazing life and celebrate it daily. My intent is not to bring judgment or condemnation or to grind an axe. So, please know my heart. My goal is to raise awareness so we, as a community of people, can be better at loving those that we perceive as “not us.”
Four weeks ago while visiting a church with a dear friend, a well intentioned, albeit misguided usher, asked us to take Solomon to the lobby because he was distracting people from hearing the preacher. He was not screaming or crying but you could hear his verbal stemming “bup, bup, bup.” For the record the pastor of the church called us and apologized profusely when our friend told him what happened. Three weeks ago while eating at a restaurant at our lake house, a man made a derogatory remark to us about Solomon being in the restaurant. And, tonight Marci and I took Solomon on a date...just the three of us...only to have the patrons in the restaurant look at Solomon, roll their eyes, and mumble under their breath while shaking their heads because his giggling seemed to interfere with them hearing the live music. This happened at three different booths in the restaurant. It appears as if the patrons fed off of each other’s disgust. So, we left before the meal was delivered.
What if instead of worrying about hearing the sermon our lives became the sermon? What if instead of getting upset because our meal was interrupted, our lives became food for someone else’s soul? What if instead of getting upset because someone with special needs distracted us from hearing the band, our lives became a symphony of love and grace and mercy?
To all the parents of a child who is not welcome, I am sorry. To all the parents of the LGBTQ child who is ostracized, I am sorry. To all the parents of the child of color who is not accepted, I am sorry. To all the parents of the bi-racial child who is made fun of, I am sorry. To all of the parents of the immigrant child who is not embraced, I am sorry. I serve a Parent whose Son was not welcomed, who was not embraced, who was ostracized and criticized and made an outcast. And He loves you dearly...and so does my family.
What if we worried more about being the sermon than hearing it?
I concur, Eric!
Obviously, Eric and Marci are modeling love and acceptance of others with their children. One of the stories that Eric talks about in Solomon’s Gift is one of many days they spent in the hospital with Solomon. On that particular day, Eric, 6 year-old Isaac (Solomon’s twin brother), and 4 year-old Grace were in the family lobby at Cook Children’s Hospital in Fort Worth, Texas, while Marci was in Solomon’s room. Eric noticed a young child with obvious neurological deficits in an electronic wheelchair. The child in the wheelchair bumped into Isaac’s chair. Immediately, Isaac jumped up, and to the delight of the child in the wheelchair, Isaac began to share his Xbox game with him. Later that evening, Eric asked Isaac about the encounter. “Tell me about the little boy in the wheelchair,” Eric said. “What do you want to know?” Isaac asked. “You know he looked different than other kids,” Eric said. “To be honest, most people would be grossed out by him or afraid to touch him.” Isaac replied, “You know, Dad, he’s really no different than you or me.”
The day after reading Eric’s Facebook post, I was visiting with my friend, Mary Ann, who told me about how saddened she is about watching stories of children being separated from their parents at the Texas border. To date, more than 2,000 minor children (some as young as 3 months of age) have been separated from their parents who have unlawfully crossed the U.S.- Mexico border. Many of those children are being placed in temporary facilities, which have been called “tender age shelters.” It has been reported that U.S. Health and Human Services (HHS) is trying to find and build new ones — including new “soft-sided shelters” on military bases in Texas, which press reports have referred to as “tent cities.” While the shelters have been reported as clean, it has also been reported the shelters are “filled with children who are hysterical and crying needing their parents.” Mary Ann told me that as she watched horrified by the news, she wanted to go to the border to help. Her next thought was, “I know Shelli would go with me.”
Yes, Mary Ann, I would. I will always “show up” to help you, my friends, and the countless strangers that I don’t know who are suffering. I pray to God that I will always have the heart of Eric, Marci, Isaac, Solomon, and Grace Littleton. In a time when the news reeks of heartless tragedy, you are my hope and inspiration.