The Parable of the Big Toe

The other day I was driving down the street on my way home from running errands. The vehicle in front of my veered out of the way of something I did not see in the driving rain. As I came closer to that same spot, I saw a little girl, blond hair streaming behind her as she pedaled her little bike along the side of a busy road with all her might. A thought flashed through my mind, "This could be one of my children!"
As I pulled up closer, I noticed it was the sweet five-year-old daughter of a friend of mine. Knowing she should never approach strangers, I hoped she would recognize me as I tried to pull to the side alongside her in a non-threatening fashion to encourage her to stay off the road and find out from her where she was going, and, perhaps more importantly, where her mother was (. She seemed bewildered about what I was doing and, in fact, pulled even farther into the busy road. I hurriedly pulled off the road ahead of her, and asked my twelve-year-old daughter to stay with her to keep her safe while I went to fetch the little darling’s mother. Of course, the mother was relieved and came to retrieve her wandering daughter. Several other neighbors had stopped or at least paused to make sure everything was alright in the meanwhile.
Many of us are like that little girl, pedaling with all our might on an often stormy pathway. We are so focused on where we are going (even if it is the wrong direction) that we often pedal along, heedless of the support around us. And, just like that little girl, we need each other to get where we truly need to be.
As I lay awake in bed this morning, that incident strung together with some other experiences and thoughts I have had lately. One was a conversation I had with a friend just earlier that day. She mentioned how different her church communities were in Indonesia and Oregon, how they seemed to pull together more and take more time for each other than we do here in my neighborhood. It made me realize that, even though our houses may be proximally close to each other, in our hearts and lives we are as distant (or perhaps even moreso!) than people in "the mission field".
I have been reflecting quite a bit lately on the body of Christ referred to in 1 Corinthians in the New Testament, chapter 12. Each member is so different, whether it is member of a church or member of a community, that it is easy to draw a parallel with Paul’s imagery here. He mentions that "The body is not one member, but many" (vs 14)... "The eye cannot say unto the hand, I have no need of thee: nor again the head to the feet, I have no need of you. Nay, much more those members of the body, which seem to be more feeble, are necessary" (vs 21-22)... "God hath tempered the body together...that there should be no schism in the body; but that the members should have the same care one for another; And whether one member suffer, all the members suffer with it, or one member be honoured, all the members rejoice with it." (24-26). We are all essential!
I started considering my place in "the body of Christ", ...and I settled on a big hairy toe (. While it seemed humorous and oddly appropriate in many ways at first, I began to realize that even that big hairy toe is essential for balance–something I discovered once when I injured that seemingly insignificant member of my body (. Not one of us is insignificant. Take the appendix–a minuscule part of our whole make-up, but when it is inflamed, oh! how the rest of the body suffers! However, for a body to function properly so it can not only share the pain of that part but send ways for it to heal, it must be connected and healthy.
Are we connected? In what ways are we? In what ways could be improve on that score? Do we feel the pain of those around us?...and is that bad?
Someone told me of a book called "Outlyers"/ "Outlanders" (or something like that) about a community of Italian immigrants with a remarkable health record–I believe particularly in the area of heart health. A study conducted in their midst found that the only discernable difference between this community and others was the connections they made. They actually mingled at days ends, rubbing shoulders with family and friends as they walked the streets and sat on porches! What a novel idea. By making these connections, they actually improved their health!
Taking this idea back to the "body of Christ" metaphor, what happens when we are disconnected, when the parts try to exist independent of one another? Shriveling, atrophy, eventual death perhaps?...do we sense this in our own lives? By being connected and whole with those around us, family and friends, we are healthier and happier, even if it means sharing each other’s pain.
We need each other, in our diversity, in our differences.
Plato claimed that there is one way to be, one ideal. As a society we have bought into that concept, feeling, deep down, that if one person is good at something, then we should be also. We each to have our endless "lists to perfection" we are intent on checking off, and as we see other’s "lists", ours just get longer (. In our education, we seem to think that there is one specific body of knowledge that we all must know or we are something less than what we should be. The diversity and uniqueness of each of us compliments each other.