Love

I made a B in organ. I practiced harder for that class than any other and I made a lot of progress, yet I still made a B. I was so mad. Yet I already had a blemish in my GPA from my epic B-Failure in freshman English so I tried not to let it bother me too much. (But it still did bother me.)

Grades are somewhat important in the Deaton family. While I’ve come to realize that the goal of 98 or higher on every assignment was a self-imposed goal that built a wall of unrealistic expectation and subsequent fear of failure around my heart, academic achievement is, indeed, something that is valued in my family system. Straight A’s are not demanded or rigidly enforced, but there is a desire to do well and a hope that one’s best will be honored by the grades that he or she receives.

Such is the reason that in the middle of our family Christmas celebration today, we found ourselves in a flustered discussion about a grade that Jack The Oldest Nephew received in his art class. For what was clearly an A+ project to everyone in the family and our very own Barb the Best and for what was displayed in his school’s display cabinet for a couple of months, Jack received a C.

Outraged, all of the adults were expressing comments of disbelief and discussing ways that the grade could have been adjusted, yet Jack was fine. He admitted the even he was a little surprised by the grade since he knew that the teacher liked his piece, yet he also admitted that the teacher had a rubric for all projects and that he had intentionally not completed one part of the rubric.

“He wanted us to use at least three different colors,” Jack said, “but I knew that I was making this for you, so I just wanted to use orange. It’s a coat hanger and two other kinds of wire that I twisted into the shape of a fish. I wanted it to look sort of like a Nemo fish, so I only put orange beads on part of the fins. And I cut up an orange Fanta can and wove it through this wire mesh stuff for the body.”

Somewhere in the sea of adult disbelief, I heard Jack’s mom mention that he knew that his grade might suffer for only using one color but that Jack wanted to do it anyway because he knew how much Aunt Dee would like it.

I didn’t cry in that moment but a lump formed in my throat and I got a bit teary-eyed. I’m crying now.

Jack sacrificed his grade for me.

He spent hours designing and crafting an orange fish for my collection, knowing that his work might not receive the marks that it deserved because he had intentionally gone against standard expectations.

Jack did that for me!

Have I mentioned that I’m crying?

Love came down at Christmas and lay in a humble feeding trough that held him in the first days of his growing into a man who would feed millions with words of hope, peace, purpose, and joy, even in the midst of judgment, misunderstanding, lack of appreciation, and lies.

Sometimes Love makes sacrifices that we don’t feel that we deserve or that we just can’t believe have happened even when they are staring us in the face.

And yet love does what Love must do to reach the hearts of those it cares about the most.

Jack reached my heart today with a gift more profound that anything I can explain.

Love is here.

Love is alive.

May Love be yours this Christmas.

May Love be yours tonight.