I know God has wanted me to write this for a week now, but it's embarassment that has kept me from it. Plus a little time to collect my thoughts. As soon as it happened, it was as if I could hear the Father say, "You need to write about this." See, a week ago today, my husband and I got to tour the birthplace and home of our nation's second president and signer of the Declaration of Independence, John Adams. I have been a fan of John Adams since reading quotes of his in a book titled "America's God and Country" by William J. Federer. Here was a man who loved his country, wife, family and God, and I was impressed. After reading more about him and watching the HBO special on him, I was excited about seeing places where he lived. The Adams' descendents saved everything, so they had many artifacts in those homes from the mold for musket balls that Abigail used when melting her pewterware into ammunition for the American militia to the chair where John Adams had his stroke while watching the 4th of July 50th anniversary parade before he died later that day. I loved this tour and learned so much.
But when we first got to the birthplace, getting off the trolley with about 25 other folks, I immediately noticed a very loud woman with her family. She annoyingly kept announcing everything. "Whoa, low doorway!" "Three steps down." "Narrow hall." When our group was split into two smaller groups, I volunteered Brad and I to go in the other group hoping she and her family would stay in the second. Instead, she and her husband and two children were assigned to ours. I could feel my shoulders droop knowing we'd hear everything announced on our way.
After going in our second room of John Adams' birthplace and listening to our tour guide speaking, I noticed the woman had something in her hand. I recognized it immediately and then put two-and-two together. That's where the shame came in. She was holding something for her husband as they made their way through the narrow doorway, his hand on her shoulder. She held a long, thin white cane with a red tip. This lady's husband was blind. She was describing everything to her husband and giving him advanced notice of when to step up or down or duck. I felt so badly about my initial thoughts. Here I was looking around in wonder at marvelous history, and he couldn't see a thing ... unless his wife told him about it. And she truly did an amazing job. Her comments throughout the rest of our tour were no longer annoying, but rather precious and uplifting. I was awed by her.
How quick I was to judge this loud woman, not realizing the selflessness she showed her husband. And all it took was a second, deeper look at the situation.
I would love to say that from now on I will take second deeper looks at everything before making a judgment about anything, but I know better, and know I'm sure to make this error again. I'm just hoping I'll be convicted about it beforehand.
My husband told me years ago when meeting someone to imagine life in their shoes. Sadly, for that moment, I'd forgotten his wisdom.
I am thankful for a patient God who forgives and teaches me in this manner. And grateful for the eyes and words of one to the benefit of another ... and its lesson at my expense to bring glory to the Father.
