Eye Openers

I felt like crying after a friend told me about taking his grandson trick-or-treating last night. Five-year-old Justin watched other kids in clusters with sisters and brothers, fathers and mothers laughing together. But Justin doesn’t have any brothers or sisters and his mom and dad don’t live together. After watching this awhile he tugged at his Grandfather’s hand and asked, “How do I get some friends, Grampa?”

I was moved, remembering similar situations with my own young sons. I know the hurt of loneliness a little too well, too. What is it that stabs at our insides like the flames in a fireplace when it is poked to life? We all remember that first day of school or the hollow insecurities of feeling lost in a crowd. 

You feel small. Insignificant.   
 

 

Felix Baumgartner came to mind. I had just read about the Austrian daredevil who broke the sound barrier bodily for the first time in history last month. I watched the clips on you tube as he rose above the earth’s surface on a weather balloon strapped into a capsule like an astronaut. When he reached twenty-five miles into outer space he opened the door and did a free fall or a “space jump” all the way back to the ground.  


He exceeded 700 mph in an astounding four minutes of free fall, spiraling and shooting through the clouds like a screaming bullet. At one point it seemed his breathing stopped completely and everyone at ground control collectively held their breath waiting to see if he was still alive or whether they were about to witness the terrible crash landing of a dead hero. Instead,  everyone cheered when his breathing resumed, the shoot deployed and he landed on his feet!  Amazing!
 

What was even more striking to me is what he said before he plunged out of that capsule: “Sometimes you have to go really high to see how small you really are.” Apparently, the real eye-opener occured before he ever left the capsule to accomplish his historic feat.

 

Such transcendental moments occur when we face our mortality or grapple with our human neediness. For the space jumper on the brink of eternity, it was a vision of greatness that dwarfed his sense of self. Standing on the edge of the heavens all by himself he no doubt wondered if he was about to plummet to his own demise. Instead, a new boundary was established the day a mere mortal exceeded the speed of sound without a rocket. And we were reminded that even world heroes have to face their fears and realize their own limitations.

 

Five-year-old Justin reminds me that even a child needs an eye-opening vision of reality if he is to learn and grow. Felix's comments highlight the fact that no matter how high we climb, we remain "small" in the confines of our humanity. From the pangs of childhood to the outer reaches of space, maybe the essential step on the path to achieving wisdom or breaking barriers is simply acknowledging truth.