In the prior two weeks a few others had mentioned not being able to hear me well, but since my mum hadn't said anything [and heaven knows we call each other 10 times a day], I had quickly judged their phones as the problem. As I drove, my mum's words rung deep, "I can never hear you". I had ignored her enough times in my life.
Now, I must admit; my cheap Sony Ericsson could earn miles for being a frequent faller, but you'd never know it by looking at its barely-scratched screen and hurricane-resistant paint job. Perhaps if my phone's outer appearance had seemed somewhat more dilapidated I would have considered it as the dysfunctional one, instead of quickly judging others' phones, but it didn't seem that way, so I didn't even consider it. Like my phone, I have fallen more times than I've flown, and with a seemingly unscathed outer appearance. The inner wiring, however, was not so lucky.
There is a famous proverb which says:
"Why do you look at the speck in your brother's eye, but do not consider the plank in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, 'Let me remove the speck from your eye'; and look, a plank is in your own eye?"
I've been able to fool people that I'm alright and, by their belief, slowly fool myself into the suicidal state of self-deception. I've been judgmental and critical from an imaginary throne of self-righteousness. The proverb continues to say;
"Hypocrite! First remove the plank from your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother's eye."
A great desire of mine is that my life can be a resource that others may be able to learn and gain wisdom from. This seemingly noble ambition, however, is compromised and unfruitful if it's done sanctimoniously.
I've had to be real with myself and question; Do you have a plank that needs removing? Or perhaps a cellular unit which could use some re-wiring?
The action to heal the world cannot predate personal healing.
© Chereese La-Vonne Ricketts 2010
© Chereese La-Vonne Ricketts 2010
