WASN’T INTERESTED

Our youngest grandson, Carter, is in pre-school. He loves it and especially loves his teacher. He came home the other day and told his mom that he wanted to make banana bread to take to her. So mom and Carter made banana bread for Miss Whitney. Carter did all the work. When he took the bread to school and gave it to her, she asked why he made it for her. His replied, “Because I love you.” Okay, so I’m bragging. Isn’t that what grandparents do?

Anyway, one of the great benefits of Carter’s preschool is that lunch is provided. (Okay, okay: for what his parents have to pay, lunch and snacks should be provided.) One of the other great benefits for Arlena and me as grandparents is that the school sends a daily report home on Carter’s activities as well as what he was served for lunch and snacks. His mom forwards the report to us which is always accompanied by a photo or two. It makes the 250+ miles distance between us seem closer.

One of Carter’s latest reports said that he was served peas and carrots for lunch. It was noted that he “wasn’t interested”. When I read that comment, all I could do was smile. Been there, done that. I mean, who hasn’t been served a meal, or at least part of one, and just was not interested in eating what was served? And sometimes we are interested only to discover that what looked so good tasted so bad.

Years ago I was served cooked cranberries which I love. I put a heaping spoonful onto my plate. They were awful. But I had to eat them because the hostess was proud of them and her husband loved them. I later learned that she made them with artificial sugar because of his diabetes. I took one for the team, as they say, because I couldn’t tell her how badly they tasted and, unlike Carter, I had to clean my plate.

There are times in life when we have to do what we have to do even, and often especially, when we are not interested in doing what needs to be done, done by us and not by someone else. We just happen to be in a place where we are called to lend a hand and cannot and must not walk away even if that is exactly what we want to do. We can walk away, of course. We have that freedom. But unlike Carter we cannot simply say “I’m not interested in helping. Ask someone else.” Our faith just won’t let us.

It’s called our “Christian Conscience”. It sits on our shoulder and keeps us alert. It nags at us especially when those opportunities arise that call out for us to lend a hand to help someone in need. It reminds us that we have somehow been put into that situation precisely because we have the time and talent to respond whether we are interested in doing so or not.

I hope that the next time a situation arises when I am called to give of myself, interested in doing so or not, I do the right thing and give my best.