Echoes of Assisi
/As my mind drifted, I could hear bells, church bells, I thought of Assisi.
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Justin is odd. That’s the plain truth of it. I’ve known him since he was born. He was a gentle, kind, daydreamy, sort of kid.
At age 27, he still is.
He’s also a worker. Justins learned many useful skills. He helps me with all sorts of physical work I used to do, that these days — I’d rather Justin do.
When I ask Justin what I owe, Justin says, “Oh, I don’t know, whatever you think”. When I peel off what I imagine to the right number of dollars, I ask. “How’s that, about right? To which Justin says, “Oh, that’s fine, thank you”.
I’m fairly confident Justin would say the same whether I offered $1 or $100.
Justin is odd.
Justin is consistently odd in ways more of us should be odd — kind, polite, hardworking” and tidy — best of all, he didn’t discipline himself to these traits; It’s his nature.
“Naturally good. That’s fantastic”!
Why then, should so many of his family fret about what he’s doing with his life?
There’s only one reason: Justin is given to being absent from where he said he would be.
It may not sound like much, but it adds up.
One version or another of, “I don’t know, I give up”, seems to be consensus.
I don’t agree. I think differently because I have the luxury of being retired, with no social commitments, employment, or anything else that requires a tight schedule. I can afford to be flexible about time.
I’m in no hurry to do anything so Justin gets to work naturally to his own time, and I get a lot of projects done. Neither of us has any need to fret about, when — Perfect!
Unfortunately — that’s just me.
Most people take time very seriously — as they should. Every day is a parade of risk & responsibility, most of it, necessarily, scheduled. I don’t blame anyone expecting punctuality. Justin would be glad to oblige if only he could.
Why he can’t is a mystery, even to Justin.
As I thought about this mystery, it occurred to me that some portion of Justin, came from somewhere else. I’ve met a few people like Justin, people who should have been born a hundred years before, or a hundred years later — or anyplace more appropriate.
As my mind drifted, I could hear bells, church bells, I thought of Assisi. I thought of St. Frances of Assisi. The church bells were symbolically sounding from some misty place long ago, echoes of something similar, something similar to the mystery of Justin.
I’m pretty sure the memory comes from my long-ago reading of G. K. Chesterton’s wonderful book: St. Frances of Assisi.
In the years before becoming St. Francis, Francis was known as a well-liked happy-go-lucky guy, nice — but oddly irresponsible.
When his father, Peter Bernardon, gave the reins of his successful business to young Francis, it resulted in Frances’s turning over several bales of expensive cloth to the needy — while making the sign of the cross over them — signifying pious charitable blessing.
Francis’s father thought less charitably of the donation, thus ending Francis’s career as merchant, and propelling his path to sainthood.
Something about Francis’s negligent interest in commerce reminded me of Justin’s lack of interest in time. Both were often distracted in ways that are similar.
What! Are you comparing your nephew to a Saint?
No, I’m not. I’m comparing St. Frances’s odd behavior to Justin’s odd behavior.
I’m not claiming any connection except for a peculiar proclivity of both of them to be absorbed to distraction, by some particularity those around them weren’t thinking about at all.
I recall a telling instance.
Justin was refinishing the deck. The sound of no activity at all prompted me check on him. When I opened the door, I saw Justin transfixed by a furry orange caterpillar leisurely making its way along the railing.
The paintbrush was lying, abandoned, a little further away.
Justin looked up saying, “Look at this little guy, Isn’t he amazing”. I had to agree; we both studied the caterpillar until he got to the end of the rail and fell into the bushes.
Justin resumed work and I went back inside the house.
Francis thought all of God’s creatures were worthy of respect: He called them Brother Wolf, Sister Swan, and teased himself as Brother Ass. He preached to the birds and little animals. He blessed their souls.
Contemporaries recognized Frances’s Sainthood but thought him a little daft as well. His was an odd point of view — at the time — and still is.
There is an echo of St. Francis in Justin.
Justin is attracted to animals, and animals are attracted to Justin.
When he comes by to work on something, all three of my cats show up to greet him. Justin has told me that the same thing happens to him with other animals at other places. One perplexed guy said of his animals, “Them dogs ain’t never that happy to see me”!
If St. Francis could be asked to comment on that effect, he would probably say, “Of course, same thing happens to me”.
Animals can sense kindness and respect.
They have a nose for moral fiber that cannot be fooled. Both St. Frances and Justin confound expectations of customariness — neither was ever tempted to meanness or selfishness.
Skill and punctuality are rightfully valued — niceness is barely noticed.
I value all three, but I value niceness more than skill and reliability because niceness is so much harder to come by, and so much easier to live with.
Back in the days when I was toiling in commerce, I often interviewed, and hired, people who were nice — over people with more impressive resumes.
A kindly nature is a trustful nature, a grateful nature, a nature naturally inclined to do the best they can. Anybody can learn to do a job. Very few can learn to be nice. Niceness is a gift from God.
None of my picks disappointed.
So, these are the echoes I hear from Assisi: honesty; kindness; thoughtfulness; and respect for all God’s creatures — Justin adds hard-working to the mix.
Justin may always have a problem with time, but he has no problem with hard work, good work and pleasantness.
He’s no saint, but he’s reliably good — that’s nearly as rare.
I wish him well.
By K. L. Shipley
Website: https://www.eclecticessays.com