andi oakes

We've been spending a lot of time at the hospital lately.  My wife's mother, who was initially admitted with breathing difficulties, suddenly went critical as her only remaining working kidney suddenly stopped functioning.  After 48hours of constant family vigil, it wasn't looking good at all and the doctors were preparing us for what they saw as the inevitable outcome.  Then, almost inexplicably, her kidney just kicked back into action again...literally a few minutes after the doctor had once again had the “you need to prepare yourselves” conversation with us.  To us, it is a true blue miracle and we thank God for it.  Of course, we're not out of the woods yet. The kidney was only one of a series of serious issues that she has, but for the moment we are all breathing a little bit easier.

In the middle of the days of constant vigil, as I was making my way from the hospital car park with a feeling of anxious heaviness draped over me like some invisible cloak, I began to look at the cars that were parked there.  I was at the very far side of the lot, and so had to weave my way through the mass of varied vehicles parked there; and in doing so, I began to wonder about the people who owned them.  As I looked at each car, I no longer saw just large hunks of crafted metal and plastic on wheels, but rather containers for stories: real, human stories.

I thought about our own story that was presently unfolding and how it was affecting us, and realised that our car was a tangible representation of that story as it sat there in the car park.  I wondered about what small items were being carried in each car and what they meant to the owners: what kind of CD's, books, trinkets, prized possessions and toys were being transported around with each occupant, that would reveal something about their individual story.  

I know what is in my own car for instance: everything from an ever changing range of music, a map of Ireland [I'm old school and haven't gone to Sat Nav yet and just love maps], heart burn tablets [a recent addition from my recent escapade with A&E...and also because I now quite like the taste of them.  I know...weirdo right? ;)], a cool etch-a-sketch pen, nail clippers to keep my nails nice and short for that all important guitar chording, and a large, plush, Larry the Cucumber...my constant companion, amongst other small bits an pieces [if you have to ask who Larry the Cucumber is...you just haven't lived my poor deprived friend].  All of these things are in some way significant in my own story, and I expect every body else's car in the car park was probably exactly the same.

So there I was...in a car park full of human stories.  All of them different, like the cars themselves...but, in truth, all of them sort of the same.  

King Solomon put it like this in the Bible: “There is nothing new under the sun”...and I think he was right.  We are all pretty much the same.  All living, in some way, through variations of the same basic stories.  Apparently some say that there are only a limited number of basic plot lines that can be drawn from in literature and that all stories are derived from these.  I don't know if that's true or not, but I could easily believe that we humans are all experiencing the same sort of “plot lines” in differing ways.  Our contexts may vary, but the stories are basically the same...or at least the motivations and drivers of our own individual tales are more or less the same: love, acceptance, identity, security...to name only a few.

We are all the same.  We are all human.  We are all seeking.  We are all bobbing along together on this blue green sphere suspended in the great grandeur of the universe: and if we are alone in all the vastness of this inconceivably immense cosmos...it would probably be a good idea to start making a real effort to get along with each other.  And perhaps a good place to start would be to see that we are basically...all the same.  Maybe it would help if we all reminded ourselves that, even though God loves us passionately, God is just as passionate about the one we call our enemy as well: for just because someone is our enemy...doesn't necessarily mean they are God's.  

If we continually condemn others for their failings, then I believe we are ultimately condemning ourselves.  Jesus said that the measure we use to judge others is ultimately the measure that is used to judge ourselves.  In other words...what I dish out bounces straight back onto me.  It's the sowing what you reap idea.  But why then, should we not use that principle for good and begin dishing out love and compassion in the belief that it will eventually come back towards us?  Sounds like a much better way to exist to me.  I don't know about you...but I'm willing to give it a go because, the way I see it, it doesn't seem as if our current system has worked so far has it?