This past weekend, I went to Houston to visit the boyfriend, and the last night I was there we went to an absolutely fabulous dinner here:
"I am just who knows/who cares when it comes to religion."
Now, it could have been the excessive amount of butter I had just consumed that caused it, but when I heard this statement, my heart froze. I looked up at the family who had just made my heart smile to now rest my eyes on a moment of pure heartbreak. For someone who seemed so composed from the outside, I couldn't imagine what was roaming in the depths of his heart. I could not imagine someone who, without hesitation, could write religion off as "who knows, who cares." I hurt for the life who hadn't been touched by the power of a prayer. For the soul who hadn't felt the grace of a new day. For the feet that helplessly tried to tread on waters that would soon rise above their head. For the heart who hadn't accepted the most pure and unconditional love. In that moment, I found humility in Houston.
There are two things I think we can take from this story. Just as there are no giants too big to be conquered, there is also no action to small to make a difference in a life and God's will. It does not take traveling to the other side of the world to find a hurting heart. It does not take leaving your town. It merely takes opening your eyes and ears to the people around you. The people you encounter on a daily basis. The people who daily whisper the troubles of their hearts but that we so selfishly tune out because of our own agendas or worries. As much as my heart broke for the man at the table beside me, my heart broke even more because I have not been as aware of the "who knows, who cares" around me. The second thing I think we can take from this is to live by the man's statement. Who Knows, Who Cares. Our goal in our lives should be to live a life where people know who and what we live for, and through our actions, they should know Who cares about them.