Fly On the Wall

     Sometimes it is hard to accept responsibility. Sometimes we need to let others bear a burden we are not meant to handle. None of the women in this story shirked their duty. All were used of God in some way. We can trust that our Father divides His work evenly. Which worker are you? 

    Elizabeth was a Christian woman. She was a hard worker, a good singer, and had her worries like everyone. Her three children were sometimes well behaved and sometimes not. Her husband went to work every day, where he earned a comfortable, but not extravagant wage. He came home at night, tired, but still managed to play a few games of catch in the backyard with the nine-year-old, let the toddler ride on his back like a horse, and admire the painted rocks of the five-year-old before he sat down to a hot supper that Elizabeth had prepared. The lettuce was from the garden, and the chicken she had canned herself.

Elizabeth loved her Church family dearly. She didn’t feel particularly critical of them. She was glad to do her part. She prided herself on it, in fact. She was always there on school cleaning days and bake days for the elderly. She offered to help sing at the local old folks’ home, had company, and sometimes kept her neighbor’s children for the day. She did sigh, though, when she got elected to the food committee. She was already a Sunday School teacher, a busy mom, librarian at school, and part of the Comforter Committee. Couldn’t someone else do the job?

     Berniece, for example. She didn’t have any jobs at all. She was perfectly capable, too. But she rarely brought food to basket dinners and often she stood around and didn’t help with so much as putting ice in the glasses!

     And Amanda. Why, she was only on the Bible School Committee, and that was only a couple weeks in summer! But maybe she had a spiritual problem. She sometimes missed Church entirely. And she never talked in Sunday School.

     And then there was Marge. She talked a lot, maybe too much. She didn’t mince her words when she had an opinion. She would likely have no trouble at all making the decisions being on the food committee required.

    That night, Elizabeth had a dream. She dreamt she was working in the garden. A fly landed on her nose, and she brushed it off. As she stood up from pulling a weed, a figure appeared at the end of the row. She gaped. It was an angel! Whatever could he want?

 The being smiled at her. “I am here to give you a gift,” the angel said.

 A gift! Whatever could it be? “Oh,” stammered Elizabeth, “Why, thank you, but I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve a gift!”

 The angel looked at her. “Gifts are never deserved and rarely given for one’s own use,” he said gently. “They are nearly always given for the use of others.” He then handed her a tiny pin. It looked like the kind businesses give away as promotions. She peered at it. It was black, with the silver image of a fly etched on the top.

 “But what is this?” She turned to ask, but he was gone. Shrugging, she pinned the tiny fly to her blouse, and continued with her weeding.

 Elizabeth woke with a start. What a strange dream! An angel and a fly. And nothing had really happened beyond that. As she lay awake, pondering, the problem of the food committee again began to bother her. Perhaps she should ask to be released. Maybe she should suggest Berniece to take her place. But even as she lay there, there was a buzzing noise. And suddenly she found herself in someone’s living room. And that wasn’t all. She was sitting on the wall, in the form, she discovered, of a fly. And there were two people in the room. She recognized them in the dim light of a single lamp as Berniece and her husband.

 Berniece was lying on a recliner, a bottle of pills nearby. “I am so sorry,” she told her husband. “I don’t mean to complain, but I feel so badly, being a burden to you!”

 Her husband, in a chair near her, shook his head. “You’re not a burden, Berniece. I wish you wouldn’t think that! Maybe soon the doctor can find something to help this back pain. And I wish you could understand,” he continued, "just how much you encourage me with your steadfastness and patience, even through your pain."

 Elizabeth felt her little fly eyes widen. Berniece struggled with back pain? She had never once complained. No wonder she didn’t help much. Now that she thought about it, she could remember Berniece and her husband often left social events early. She’d been a little irritated in the moment—how they could show up, and Berniece never helped set up or clean up and if she brought a dish it was usually a simple one.

 “I just feel so badly,” Berniece was saying now, “I wish we could have company. I know you like to socialize! And If only my back would quit hurting long enough to make you something besides soup out of a can! There are days I just feel useless!”

"I don't mind," her husband shook his head,"and you serve a great purpose with the way you are willing to listen to other people's problems for hours on the phone."

 Suddenly it all came clear to Elizabeth. Berniece was sacrificing herself for her husband. Coming to social functions must be excruciating to her, but she still showed up because it was the only way her husband got to visit with his friends. And probably the only time he got a really good home cooked meal besides. And here she had been, ready to hand in Berniece’s name for the food committee!

 Well, there was still Amanda. Maybe her name would work for a replacement. Even as she thought the name, there was another buzzing sound in her ears, and Elizabeth found herself in another room. She recognized it as Amanda’s dining room. There was a little desk beside one wall. Amanda was there, writing something. Elizabeth stretched out her little fly wings and landed as quietly as possible on Amanda’s shoulder. Peering down, she read what was being written:

 “This burden that I carry, Lord, will it ever leave, or must I be resigned to carry it forever? I want to serve You. I love You with my whole heart, but this pain from my past, will it be with me always? If you wish me to carry it, I will, for I know You will walk with me. But it is so hard for me to walk among the other women! I feel so different, like a stranger wearing a mask, trying to blend in. None of them know my life was so different from theirs when we were children. I still get flashbacks of my father and how he treated us. What if someday I lose control of myself and hit my own children? Sometimes, in spite of my love for You, I can hardly go to Church and pretend. I know I shall cry the whole service through, because I am sad, so sad, and I grieve for my lost childhood, my shattered dreams. I want to be a whole and vital Christian and live for you, but will I ever be whole? Or will I go through life broken?”

 The pen paused on the page. Elizabeth had known none of this. She remembered Amanda from school days, a quiet girl. The kind who never had come-backs when the other students teased her. She’d worn out of date, ill fitting dresses. Her hair had only ever been combed one way. Sometimes she had spoken strange, fanciful things, and when the others looked at her oddly she had collapsed into silence. They had thought her boring, unpopular, odd. They had never guessed the truth. Oh, it was terrible!

 “I’ve started healing, Lord, but it’s such a long process. I’m afraid it will take the rest of my life. But I will pursue healing for my children’s sake, my husband’s sake, my own sake, and Yours. Yet it takes so much energy! Taking care of my family feels like a monumental task. I am weary so often, a weariness in body that comes from a weariness of heart. I don’t do my part in the congregation, but not because I don’t want to. I struggle to accept that I can’t. I know if I take on jobs I’ll become overwhelmed and end up in the hospital again, and Lord, I can hardly bear the thought of that. I never felt good enough for my earthly father. But I stand amazed every day that I am perfect in the view of my Heavenly Father. Help me to keep that ever in the forefront of my mind.”

 Elizabeth felt tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. No wonder Amanda always acted so exhausted around holidays! Of course, they’d been with her parents, and that must take a terrible toll on her! Elizabeth remembered now the last Christmas party at school. Amanda had been picking up her things as if to leave, and Elizabeth herself had thrust a vacuum in her hands and told her—the words came back as she had spoken them—“We all have to do our part if we’re going to get this done!” Amanda had turned white, and then looked angry. After a long pause, she had taken a deep breath, put down her things, and taken the vacuum. She had looked about to cry as she pushed the vacuum back and forth, and when she was done, she had left without saying a word. At the time, Elizabeth had congratulated herself. Somebody had to see to it that everyone helped out. If Amanda wanted to cry and be mad, that was her own problem, she needed to grow up. But now? Now Elizabeth knew it had probably been a difficult time. And she had not helped anything.

 Well, there was still Marge. Maybe she could take over food committee. Again there was that buzzing noise in her ears. And in moments, Elizabeth found herself on Marge’s back porch. Marge was there, and a teenager Elizabeth couldn’t recognize.

 “Sometimes I just want to run away. I don’t think my mom cares at all! They all think Clara is the perfect daughter, and they don’t understand me!” the girl was saying.

 “But your mom does love you,” Marge was saying. “Even though it can be hard to feel if you don’t think she understands you. Promise me, Angie, that you won’t run away without talking to me about it first, OK?”

 Marge listened, amazed how gentle Marge’s voice was. But surely, talking to some random girl late at night on the porch wasn’t enough to get out of other responsibilities! The gentle buzzing in her ears again, and Marge felt herself transported to a bright, sunny day.

 Again, Marge was there, handing a water bottle to a wrinkled woman wielding a cardboard sign. Elizabeth was perched on a sign pole and couldn’t hear a word, but she saw Marge sit down beside the woman. Elizabeth didn’t know if she could do something like that! Sit with a homeless woman? She could hand out money and pray for them, but to actually sit down and talk? It just wasn’t her. The conversation wasn’t long, and soon Marge hugged the shabbily dressed woman and walked away.

 And? Elizabeth wondered. So Marge had midnight conversations and hugged random homeless persons. And that was supposed to let her off the hook how? Again the buzzing noise. Elizabeth really wanted to cover her ears. To escape this weird world of half dreams and vision and somehow a feel of reality. But no, here she was again. This time it was church. To her surprise, she saw Amanda, standing by the back wall. This time, Elizabeth was sure to fly close. Suddenly, Marge was there, too. She reached out and squeezed Amanda’s hand. “I’m glad to see you this morning!” she said, “I left a casserole in the fridge for you. I sure hope you all like bacon and ranch!”

 Then everything went dark, and Elizabeth found herself, heart beating faster than normal, back in bed. It must have been a dream. Slowly, she grew drowsier and drowsier. Soon she drifted off to sleep again. And there she was, back in the garden. Suddenly the angel was before her.

 “I’ve come for the pin,” he said quietly.

 “Oh, of course,” Elizabeth felt flustered. “Here it is.”

 “Did you find the meaning in the gift?” the angel asked, smiling.

 “Well,” Elizabeth paused, “I think so. Except, I wasn’t quite sure about the last one.”

 “Marge?” asked the angel. “She is a very dear worker. The Father has so many uses for her. She is faithful in them all. He would rather not use her talents in such a direct way. Someone has to do all the little jobs, you know.”

 Elizabeth stood, biting her lip. Something she didn’t quite understand niggled in her brain. “But I was wondering,” she said, “I mean, I don’t understand. Where does that leave me? Am I to take on all the responsibility that those women can’t? How am I supposed to handle it all? I’m busy, too! I have my own needs that have to be met.”

 The angel smiled and sat down. “Come here,” he said. “Let us talk a little.” Elizabeth made her way over to him. “I said the gift you were given was for others, not yourself,” the angel begin. “Can you see how that was true?”

 Elizabeth nodded. Yes, she could understand that. Being a fly on the wall had led her to understand what others were really going through. It helped her to give them the grace they needed, to not hold them accountable to do things they really couldn’t handle.

 “You have been an admirable worker, Elizabeth. You handle a household so well. You always are volunteering to clean or cook for others. But you sometimes feel disappointed with life. You get disgruntled because you work so much, and you sometimes wonder why all the responsibilities fall on you. Isn’t that so?”

 “Yes…” Elizabeth hesitated. “I’m so busy all the time! I hardly ever have time for me and the things I enjoy! I give all of myself to others! If not my family, it’s the Church. And I know that’s what I should do, but it’s hard.”

 “That’s honest of you,” the angel looked at her. “You know, Elizabeth, life is busy. The Father knows it. But giving yourself is what He asks of everyone, just in different ways. There will come a time when you are old that you will long to be able to do the things you are doing now. This is a busy season of life, and you have choices, you know. Fight against the busyness or accept it. The gift you have been given wasn’t only being a fly on the wall.”

 “What?!” Elizabeth looked at him with dismay and consternation. “What was it, then?”

 “Two things,” the angel smiled. “Maybe more. You’ve been given a healthy mind and a strong body. Because you have those things, you will be asked to do much in the Kingdom. There will be times it looks like you are doing more than your share, but trust me, the Father never divides His work unfairly. And if you’re worried about drowning in busyness, you needn’t be. He’ll give you direction for rest, as well as for work.”

 “I don’t think,” Elizabeth said, petulantly, “that I like being a mature person with responsibility very much.”

 “And that,” said the angel, his eyes sparkling, “is why the Father wishes everyone to remain child-like.”

 And then the angel was gone, and Elizabeth found herself sitting bolt upright in bed.

 Elusive thoughts danced about in her mind. Child-like. Pure, innocent, forgiving, loving, patient, kind. And accepting most of all. Children were so flexible, so resilient, so utterly moldable. Was there a reason she couldn’t be on the food committee? Not really. She had accepted the good things in life, why not accept the busy-ness of life as well? Learn to enjoy the things she was called on to do as a service to God instead of her dutiful place in the community? Love her struggling sisters enough to fill in the gaps they left when they were unable to do what she could?

 Slowly, she opened her heart to the Father, and He spoke peace to her soul. And then, like a child, she fell into the sleep of true acceptance.