Yesterday I wrote about one part of the documentary "Happy" that stood out to me: that of reprogramming our brains in two weeks by meditating on love and compassion. As I was practicing a meditation on love this evening, a different interview from the film kept coming back, over and again. In a way, it brought focus to the transition I am in.
A middle-aged man in the film had been an eager young banker, determined to be the youngest director in his bank in Singapore when he was starting out. I regret that I didn't catch where he is currently located, but it was clear it was a very undeveloped part of the world. A friend of his, who volunteered at the "house for the dying," asked the upwardly mobile banker to volunteer there for a day. He went and transformed in the experience. He has never left.
He talked about the humble acts he performs to give aid and comfort to those who are in pain and dying--a drink of water, bites of food, aid in walking across the room to a man without a leg or a crutch, and even simply holding a hand. At one point he almost choked up as he talked about the meaning this work brought to his life.
As he continued to talk, he shared what has become his philosophy of life. "God loans us a life, and at the end of it, we need to give it back...with interest." The interest, which is due, is what we give to the world in service. Perhaps only a banker would come up with that metaphor, but it is easily relatable. Most of us have borrowed money for something in our lives--house, car, student loans. We expect to repay the loans, and we expect to pay interest. However, I've never heard anyone talk in terms of their lives in exactly that way before.
In the nagging at my heart over the last two months, the hunger for meaning feels to me like God whispering to me that I need to be thinking about my interest payment. ("Seeking All Sides of a Challenge, 1/3/17.) I've always been in some kind of service job--making people's lives and work better, but most of the time it has been for middle-class people in relative comfort.
I've been volunteering to fund-raise for United Way, the Combined Federal Campaign (CFC,) and the Red Cross for most of my adult life, where I've talked about those in need. I've also served on several boards of directors of organizations serving people with a range of different kinds of needs, but never really got my hands dirty. Except for an occasional afternoon volunteering at the food bank, my service has been at arm's length. I've never really pushed myself out of my comfort zone to render service directly to people with whom I may be uncomfortable around.
In many of the Hallmark movies that are aimed at my demographic and always end happily, there is often volunteer work at a soup kitchen or tutoring kids. In these times of personal giving, the potential romantic interest sees the compassionate side of the other person. I hazard a guess that few people have seen the compassionate side of me, because I don't put it out there very often. Part of me wonders if my heart might just break if I actually personally interacted with the recipients of my goodwill.
Somehow I don't think that when God asks me for my interest that it will be acceptable to say I talked about the needs but didn't get my hands or my business suit dirty will fill the bill. During this time of transition, I need to hold the intention that wherever I land at the other end of my becoming, when the time arrives, I will pay my interest in full.
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