"The other day I was at my rheumatologist's office, and in walked Marvin. I had never met Marvin, but I immediately summed him up as a patient—a man about 70 years of age with a diagnosis of rheumatoid arthritis and several other ills. He wore a plaid flannel shirt, faded jeans, work boots and a scruffy white beard. He sauntered in with an oxygen tank hanging across his shoulder and a box of donuts on his arm. He asked my name and offered me a donut.
Within minutes, I learned that Marvin lives in a small mountain town over 50 miles from Colorado Springs and drives here for each one of his appointments, stopping for donuts along the way. He's lived in the mountains for over 65 years and knows every family in his town. He has eight grandchildren and two great-grandchildren, one of whom was just born; his name is Evan. Marvin is remodeling his house, and his wife keeps asking why it's taking so long; he tells her it's because she keeps sending him to doctor appointments. He assured me that our doctor has taken good care of him since 1984, and he wouldn't go to anyone else.
There is something I absolutely love about talking to (or in this case, listening to) older people. I find them in turn fascinating, hilarious, adorable and inspiring. I almost never pass up an opportunity to meet and listen to an elderly person, and I am rarely disappointed with my choice. I was reading a book when Marvin walked into the room, but I soon put the book away. I wondered if he waits for his trips to the city to unburden himself of his tales and related news, and I was this trip's captive audience—it certainly seemed to be the case.
My visit with Marvin got me thinking how grateful I am for every encounter I have outside my well-worn sphere of acquaintances. Sure, I love my friends and family, but the Marvins of the world give me fresh eyes. They make me stop and give them my full attention, in part because they're new and in part because they're different. Sometimes I'll meet a Marvin in the business of my day (as I did in my trip to the doctor's office), but sometimes I have the privilege of cultivating a relationship with a Marvin over time. These are the friendships that truly bless me—but they're not without sacrifice. They force me to step out of my normal routine; they put me in different surroundings; they can even expose me to sadness and loss. More often than not they make me stop focusing on myself (is that even possible?) and listen to someone else.
But they're worth it. Without these friendships I wouldn't know Olga's recipe for a good marriage (hers lasted 71 years) or Emil's funny stories or the lessons Carrold learned in the Great Depression or what it was like for Minnie to become a Christian at age 75. I've peppered these friends with questions and have gained wisdom that would be difficult to glean elsewhere. Yes, it's been a good investment.
Do you have an area where you could grow relationally, perhaps by befriending someone different from yourself and serving them at the same time? Maybe, like me, you're drawn to the elderly. Or maybe you like kids and can help an adoptive family juggle their unique demands (this is National Adoption Month—listen to this week's show for a discussion along these lines). Maybe you have a heart for those with special needs, or someone from a different culture, or someone who is struggling to make ends meet. The opportunities are many, so give it a try and let me know what you learn."
-a blog from Boundless Ministries
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