Room to grow and breathe

 

Each time that I return to Jamaica, I am captivated once more by the intense, almost erotic beauty of the place––cobalt waters, cloudless skies, lush landscapes. How can anyone fail to be moved by God’s loveliest handiwork and the privilege of having a front-row seat?

Yet few of us in the United States would switch places with those who live there––so much grinding poverty and the sheer physical challenge of keeping one’s family fed and clothed.

Is it possible, I wonder, that God sought to teach one of His timeless lessons by granting a predominantly impoverished population such gorgeous scenery? To show us that we all need to open our eyes to what surrounds us in nature, rather than dwell on dilapidated housing with minimal furnishings––or their polar opposites in other cultures, glittering mansions and fast cars?

I’m not in any way attempting to make deprivation sound glamorous. It isn’t. Only to point out that our worldly goods are probably the least accurate measures of our lives’ worth. Majesty is not found there, but in how much help we extend to others.

Of course we can’t feed our children with sunsets. Still, I clearly recall that as a teenager, gazing out to sea at a reddening sky was what fed my dreams. It took me far beyond a seemingly hopeless situation and propelled me into a future that I could not yet envision––but somehow touch as if it were already a reality.

I’ve said many times that I was driven by desperation. I haven’t always stressed, however, the powerful realization that came years later––my backdrop was larger than I was. I was never sitting in a cramped space. I always had room to breathe.

So my ambitions would expand; my accomplishments would increase. Over time, I would grow and stretch as wide as the ocean. Over time, I was certain, absolutely everything would change. And someday I would encourage hundreds of others to aim equally high.

 

 


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