TREASURE IN EARTHEN VESSELS

I can’t help believing that if we could only look at others through the eyes of Jesus, we could penetrate the crumbling clay of mortality and catch a glimpse of the immortal spirit hidden therein just waiting to escape. A psychology professor once confessed to me that he was a psycho-ceramic, meaning a crack pot. But then he added, with a twinkle in his eye, there is a lot of light shining through the cracks. The brightest light of our inner beauty shines through the cracks in our humanity. Oh that we had eyes to see it. Those who first discovered the Dead Sea Scrolls hidden in a Palestinian cave, at first, had no idea of the priceless ancient manuscripts contained within the pottery jars.

In like manner we are often blind to the inner beauty which is contained in every life. The following anonymous poem touched my heart with a new awareness of that. It was found in the personal effects of an elderly man who died in the geriatric ward of a nursing home in North Platte, Nebraska. It was believed that he had nothing left of any value. Later, however, when the nurses were going through his meager possessions, they found this poem. Its quality and content so impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital.

Now this little old man, with nothing left to give, has these simple but profound words winging across the Internet and touching the hearts of thousands.

CRABBY OLD MAN

What do you see nurses? What do you see?
What are you thinking when you're looking at me?
A crabby old man, not very wise,
Uncertain of habit with faraway eyes?

Who dribbles his food and makes no reply.
When you say in a loud voice; 'I do wish you'd try!'
Who seems not to notice the things that you do
And forever is losing a sock or a shoe?

Who, resisting or not, lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding the long day to fill.
Is that what you’re thinking? Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse you're not looking at me.

I'll tell you who I am as I sit here so still,
As I do at your bidding, as I eat at your will.
I'm a small child of Ten with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters who love one another.

A young boy of sixteen with wings on his feet,
Dreaming that soon now a lover he'll meet.
A groom soon at twenty my heart gives a leap.
Remembering, the vows that I promised to keep.

At twenty-five now, I have young of my own.
Who need me to guide, and a secure happy home.
A man of thirty My young now grown fast.
Bound to each other with ties that should last.

At forty, my young sons have grown and are gone,
But my woman's beside me to see I don't mourn.
At fifty, once more, babies play 'round my knee.
Again, we know children my loved one and me.

Dark days are upon me, my wife is now dead.
I look at the future and shudder with dread.
For my young are all rearing young of their own.
And I think of the years and the love that I've known.

I'm now an old man and nature is cruel.
Tries to make old age look like a fool.
The body it crumbles, grace and vigor depart.
There is now a stone where I once had a heart.

But inside this old carcass a young guy still dwells.
And now and again my battered heart swells.
I remember the joys, I remember the pain.
And I'm loving and living life over again.

I think of the years, all too few gone too fast.
And accept the stark fact that nothing can last.
So open your eyes, people open and see.
Not a crabby old man; look closer see ME!!