A Prayer of St. Francis

“Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love.”*

Charles stood wide-eyed in the High School bathroom, watching as Don crunched knuckles against the jaw-bone of a thug.  Charles wore his blue ribbon from the Special Olympics, understood little of the thug’s mockery.  Don understood, though.  We were all just kids and Don was reactionary—a visionary, really.  Charles was vindicated that day and a message was sent to the rest of our school—human dignity is worth fighting for.

“Where there is injury, pardon.
Where there is doubt, faith.”

Lichinga was a lanky twelve, long and black-skinned.  His head bobbled from side to side when he walked and he had a perpetual smile.  Communication was difficult, his thick tongue fighting to finesse the beauty of the Portuguese language.  I watched as Kyle walked hand-in-hand with Linchinga through the village.  His actions told the people, “Lichinga is our brother.”

“The village is waking to faith,” Kyle said.  “Faith restores even the most broken.”

“Where there is despair, hope.
Where there is darkness, light.
Where there is sadness, joy.”

Jude struggles to decipher the human machine.  The children huddle around a kickball picking teams and he sees them as a singular unit, dangerous.  They are robotic, he thinks, giants like Godzilla or Mothra.  He tells me that they want to crush him, want to taunt him to the point of balled-up fists.  It’s why he retreats to his safe world, one filled with Thor, Captain America, and Spiderman.  It’s why he sings the film scores at the top of his lungs.  It drowns out the clinking  sounds.

We struggle to understand his sensory disorders.  We want to explain the world as safe and inviting.  But the truth is, we live in a jungle and Jude knows that best.  He speaks of God in theological complexities that open my eyes.  His language is so different.  He hears vocal nuance in the Carmina Burana, understands the power of the bass section.  And sometimes I wonder if my struggle to help him find normal adjustment is robbing him of a gift.

His wiring is beautiful, even if difficult to untangle.

“O Divine Master,
grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled, as to console;
to be understood, as to understand;
to be loved, as to love.”

Amen.

*Quoted material taken from the Prayer of St. Francis.

This week, 99 Balloons launched an International Project Page which highlights great works from around the world. Be sure to check out our first project, benefiting special needs children in Haiti! 100% of project donations go straight to the project.