praying for time

I've been sick for the past few days. Living in the same square footage as all the nurses I work with means that differential diagnoses have been flying freely. So far, it's been anything from mono to worms to malaria. Personally, I think I just have a bad cold. Thankfully, my parents have been feeding into my TV addiction, and I have enough episodes of American Idol to keep me entertained while I live in my bed.

I've just been laying here watching Idol Gives Back. It's the night where all the celebrities and singers and big Hollywood names get together and raise money for charities worldwide. They travel to places like New Orleans and Angola and make heart-wrenching video montages set to inspirational music. Small brown faces, staring unblinkingly into the camera as the voice-over narration asks me to pick up the phone and donate. Just one dollar.

Carrie Underwood, clad in a gown that probably cost as much as it would to feed a small village for a month or two, just got on stage and sang a song that ripped my heart out.

These are the days of the open hand
They will not be the last
Look around now

These are the days of the beggars and the choosers
This is the year of the hungry man
Whose place is in the past
Hand in hand with ignorance and legitimate excuses

The rich declare themselves poor
And most of us are not sure
If we have too much but we’ll take our chances
‘Cause God stopped keeping score

I guess somewhere along the way
He must have let us all out to play
And turned his back
And all God’s children
Crept out the back door
And its hard to love
Theres so much to hate
Hanging onto hope
When there is no hope to speak of
And the wounded skies above
Say its much too late
Oh maybe we should all be praying for time

This is the year of the empty hand
Oh you hold onto what you can
And charity is a coat you wear twice a year

These are the days of the guilty man
The television takes a stand
And you find that what was over there
Is over here
So you scream from behind your door
Say whats mine is mine and not yours
I may have too much
But I’ll take my chances cause God stopped keeping score
And you’ll cling to the things they sold you
Did you cover your eyes when they told you
That he cant come back
‘Cause he has no children
to come back for

And it's hard to love when theres so much to hate
And hanging onto hope
When there is no hope to speak of
And the wounded skies above
Say its much, much too late
Well maybe we should all be praying for time

(Carrie Underwood - Praying For Time)

Do you cover your eyes when they told you that He can't come back because He has no children to come back for? I may have too much, but I'll take my chances because God stopped keeping score.

How often am I guilty of just this? Complaining that I'm too tired to work, when the wards are full of those very same little brown faces. Wishing I could switch a shift so I can go out with friends when I've been given the opportunity to give so much more than just my money. I'm ashamed to think of how often my attitude falls so much in line with those lyrics.

The thing that gets me through, though, is that that song isn't entirely true. Somehow, in this crazy little microcosm, things have been turned upside down. Here, I have seen Liberian children, loving despite hate. Sharing hugs and laughter when all they've known is scorn and ridicule. I have seen grown men with tear-filled eyes tell stories of war while they smile through the pain of their wounds and talk of things like forgiveness and healing. I have seen women with empty hands reach out and give to the child in the next bed.

It is not true that there is no hope to speak of. Because we have prayed for time, and it has been given to us. We need only to redeem it.