Without Mouths

"I believe that anything, a story, a novel or a piece of art, has a place for you in it. A place that is yours to decide."

Last time we left our hero, Kevin Sites, he was in Africa. Well, not anymore. He's in the middle east, and he has come across a Syrian artist who likes drawing heads. Heads, in may different poses, styles, and manners. There are some carved out, watercolored, and all in different stages of emotion.

However, they are all missing one major anatomical feature: a mouth. Kevin tries to gather the reason, but to no avail. Desperately, he asks if it is the pain of not being able to express something, but the artist only smiles and says "It's whatever you see, whatever it tells you, that's what it is."

Mr. Sites reflects,
"It's a thought that, like the stone walls outside, transcends this moment and makes me wonder if that is too generous a concept for most people. many choose their place as quickly as they can without trying to understand, seeing only the garbage on the streets rather than the art inside."

Maybe we should do that more often. See past the superficial, and, as cliche as it may sound, stop judging books by their cover. The world would have more peace if we would learn to understand what the other is fighting for.

Random Memory with a Moral...

It was getting close to Christmas-time and I must have been in fourth grade, if not younger. My family has never had a huge extravagant Christmas, and I am glad I never did (just so much easier on the wallet there...). But this once my mom decided to have us pick out our gifts. So she packed us up into the van and took us to the nearest clothing store. Now, before I go on, I'd like to say that my parents are really smart--actually, that's an understatement--and my mom had something up her sleeve. She told us that at the school where she works there were little children--one in each of mine and my sibling's classes--who were really poor and they were not having Christmas that year, so each of us would pick a gift for them. Immediately, a person I knew was poor and had siblings in my sibling's classes came to mind. However, I didn't really like this kid because he made fun of me, so I immediately found the ugliest shirt I could find, gave it to my mom, and didn't think much of it afterwards. Now it all worked out that the boy and I wore the same size clothes, and somehow my mom got me and my siblings to get clothes of our own size. Lo and behold, Christmas Eve came, and to the Hispanic culture we opened our presents at midnight. I got the usual sweaters from my grandparents, a cool something from my "rich" uncle (I saw him that way in those days....), and clothes from my parents. But what struck me was my mom's box. Inside, there was that ugly shirt I picked out.

Playing Captain Hindsight over here, I realize that that is true humility. We can only be Jesus followers when we give to others that which we would give ourselves, if not better. This is true Christianity.