“Remember Your Heart…”
“Love is even-tempered…” 1 Corinthians 13:5
It was the middle of rush hour and, not surprisingly, our bus felt (and smelled) like a giant sardine box on wheels. As a result, my nerves were on edge, and every one of my instincts told me to turn around and tell the guy behind me exactly what I thought of him and his Ebola-type coughing fit. Anyone who knows me knows that I am a public-space “germophobe.” My awareness and fear of germs in public places is so major that I often resort to potentially catastrophic means, such as “train-surfing” – the art of balancing like a surfer in the middle of the train aisle – in order to avoid touching anyone or anything that may contain germs. Call me crazy, but I strongly believe that the maxim, “sharing is caring,” does not – and should never – apply to germs. Yet, as is the case with most ideologies, there was someone who didn’t share my views, as was evidenced by the guy now coughing his guts into the back of my hair. It would have been different if the guy was doing one of those light and mildly offensive, “Excuse me while I clear my throat” kind of coughs. Instead, however, he was taking the time to carefully hack up each one of his lungs.
I was mentally preparing my monologue of harsh truths to set straight this oblivious virus-spreading machine, when a small voice inside my head managed to interrupt, “Remember your heart.” For a brief moment I was confused, wondering what in the world my imminent outburst could possibly have to do with my heart. Then it dawned on me – the voice wasn’t talking about my actual heart but rather my stationery one.
Earlier that week at a church women’s group meeting, each of us had received a small paper heart with a characteristic of love written on it based on a Bible passage from 1 Corinthians 13. My paper heart had said “even-temper,” which meant that for the entire week I was supposed to make it my goal to keep a leveled disposition. After the meeting, however, I had swiftly tucked and forgotten the paper heart in my group folder, thinking it insignificant. Yet like a star in the night sky the paper heart had risen to remembrance – just as I was about to “go-off” on Bobby-Bacteria behind me, South Bronx style. It was as if, desired or not, I was being offered the opportunity to carry out the challenge I had only days before been given.
So with the self-control of a bull on skates, I tried my best to restrain my anger, and with my anger volume now set somewhat on low, I heard the voice inside my head grow a little louder: Instead of getting angry, why don’t you find a way to help him? Help him how? I questioned the voice. My first thought was to give him water, but with the kind of cough he had, giving him water seemed tantamount to giving a plush blanket to a starving man. Besides, I didn’t have any water with me, so the idea was out of the question. I tried to think of something else, and then it occurred to me: gum. Perhaps chewing a piece could somehow calm his coughing bouts.
At first, I thought the man would refuse. After all, this was New York City – land of the skeptics – and who in New York actually accepts anything from anyone nowadays? However, to my surprise, the man took the gum, quickly unwrapped then chewed it, and I watched gratefully as his coughing frenzy began to subside.
“You are an angel,” the man said finally, breathing normally for the first time since he’d gotten on the bus. “Not many people would have thought to do what you did, so thank you,” he added. I assured him that it was no problem at all and that I was glad to help, but only after inwardly chiding myself for the negative attitude that had nearly kept me from doing so.
“I know, I know,” I said, interrupting the voice, meanwhile inciting several curious stares. “Remember my heart,” I finished in amusement. Then I smiled and continued on my way.
Submitted by Minister Crystal Pemberton
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