Hearts

There is a girl here who prays for celebrities. She follows the news, reads the magazines, and prays. For people like Whitney Houston’s daughter, who recently lost her mom. Or the lead singer of He is We, who has been fighting for her life against disease. This girl is passionate about Disney, and justice, and she is going to change the world for Jesus.

There is a boy who keeps to himself most times. He is quiet and gentle, and irrevocably loyal to those he loves. And if he shares himself, if he allows himself to be known, he does love – deeply and faithfully. We have a journal that we pass back and forth, forth and back, between each other, writing letters of thought down because sometimes we just can’t say them out loud.

There is another girl who shares and receives mercifully, at the right time and the right place. She listens to me read her bedtime stories at night, and sometimes I wonder if she does it just because she knows it makes me happy. She gives generously, things like dresses and shoes and straighteners and ears to listen, hands to do laundry late at night. When she sees someone crying, she hugs them and tells them she loves them.

Another boy taught me to play Chinese chess two days ago. Last semester, he showed me how to cook rice. He knows how to make curry, and which running routes lead to the best parks, and what encouraging word needs to be heard. He creates rhythm on the djembe, and he offers me a taste of anything he is eating, no matter how small his portion. He will share his knowledge, his bike, his time, his slice of orange, with anyone, anytime. And perhaps most astounding of all, I have never heard him speak about himself or any of these things. I have had to observe them, and the humility that supplements them all.

This Jia, which literally means family or home in Chinese, is full of broken humans with beautiful hearts.  These hearts are encased in multi-colored skin, multi-colored personalities – and I am slowly discovering the hidden pockets of each one.

We have lived together for eight months, and from this group I have learned about humanity: Sometimes, we choose to not hang out with one person or other because we find him or her “annoying.” We judge on his or her level of “coolness” in comparison to his or her level of “annoyingness.”  We forget to see through personality surface and into the heart. And sometimes, the people who are the least “easy” to hang out with have the best hearts. They are the best friends, the most loyal, the most interesting, the most authentic. They do not shroud themselves in a cloud of “cool.” Rather, they thrive in their quirkiness. And they are beautiful.

So much of my life I desired to be accepted and loved by the “cool” group. But now, I don’t suppose I care. As we grow older, I hope we begin to realize that the things we desired and pursued in our youth really don’t matter. As we grow older, I hope we stop looking for “cool” and start looking for hearts. It turns out everyone has one.