Monday, February 14, 2005

“Hey, aren't you...”

I still strikes me as odd that parts of this town consider me somewhat of a celebrity. Strange, yet mildly amusing, and yet still downright disturbing at other times. I write about the trivial. Who won and who lost. Who scored what when and how that affected who won and who lost. Very little of who I am ever reaches the newsprint that bears my name on a weekly basis.

I take pictures. Of basketball players jumping, batters swinging, helmets cracking against each other and muscular males (and on the rare occasion females) rolling around on the floor wearing "singlets." Don't misunderstand, I love the sport of wrestling and I do enjoy my job on most days, but I merely show what happened and who it happened and didn't happen to. There's little of my own here---simply a reproduction of what was packaged with a dash of my own flair.

So it seems odd when I walk into a restaurant, like I did tonight, and receive stares from knowing people. Sometimes I really just want to say, “Listen folks, my wallet is only fat because of the ever-growing pile of debit card slips waiting to be entered into my checkbook, I live in a duplex known as ‘the world of wood paneling’ and the semi-nice truck I drive has a semi-nice loan attached to it that I'll still have for a few more semi-nice years."

Though I enjoy life here, it’s hardly the place I expected to be when I moved here some six years ago. Looking back though, I think God has used my time in this position to teach me a lot about the importance of relationships. While I haven't been able to expound upon my thoughts and my faith to a broad audience, I have had ample opportunity to build relationships I would otherwise not have had, some coming from the "hey, aren't you..." moments. In some ways I feel very much "not an outsider" anymore.

Since my early days in high school, I've always wanted to do something that would add significance to the lives of many, and consequently, when that hasn't happened I've felt that my offering was minimal, mediocre at worst. Some of this idea comes simply from a selfish desire to be validated I suppose, not wanting to squander my life.

But the idea I ponder tonight is that the person in the grand spotlight can only have so much of a lasting impact on those that hear or read his words or take in his art. Billy Graham can't take me on in a late-night game of nine ball, and M. Night ShamaWhatsHisFace isn't going to ask me for a ride to the next basketball game. These people may have the grand spotlight, but what brings about lasting importance on a grander scale are personal relationships.

We all have this opportunity to turn the humdrum into the spectacular. Platforms don't have to be highly elevated above the crowd in order to serve as platforms. In fact, I'm inclined to think every person has a platform to let their life speak into others. It's just too bad that we often confuse a high profile with a high calling.

The trivial, mundane and the day-to-day should be our focus. The ordinary things are essential and, in their own way, are quite extraordinary. Because of this, I think the Christian can take pride in the place God has them, even if it's not where they originally thought they'd be.

So I'm learning to appreciate the stares and trying to take advantage of the "Hey, aren't you..." inquiries.