The central character is an orphan named Homer Wells. If you saw the movie without reading the book, I hope you'll find the opportunity to get to know Homer in the pages of the novel. (Michael Caine was excellent as the ether-addicted abortionist Dr. Larch, however - his "goodnight, you princes of Maine, you kings of New England!" brings a lump to my throat every time.)
But Homer...Homer doesn't lend himself to adequate screen adaptation. Much of what we learn about Homer is more easily imagined than depicted. Homer's various deployments to hilarious and sometimes awful foster families create emotional twists, scars and character traits in Homer that could never be captured on film.
I love Homer Wells, but this post isn't about Homer. It's about something I learned from him. The aforementioned failures in foster care result in Homer's permanent residence at the St. Cloud's orphanage where he was born. Homer belongs at St. Cloud's - thus, Dr. Larch affectionately advises Homer that he is expected to be "of use".
Being of use. That's what I want to talk about.
USE: [v. yooz n. yoos] verb, used, us·ing, noun (used with object)
1. to employ for some purpose; put into service; make use of: to use a knife.
2. to avail oneself of; apply to one's own purposes: to use the facilities.
3. to expend or consume in use: We have used the money provided.
4. to treat or behave toward: He did not use his employees with much consideration.
5. to take unfair advantage of; exploit: to use people to gain one's own ends.
When I apply the word to much of my experience on this side of heaven, my first sensation is shame. I have used and ab-used family, friends, employers, food, whiskey, money, pastors, churches, clubs, resources, yada, yada, and all with a singular purpose in mind....ME. It has always been about ME. My needs, my wants, my hopes, my desires, my expectations, my emptiness, my loneliness, me, me, me, me, me, me....me.
I am sick to death of me. And I think that's a good thing.
That famous prayer says: "God, GRANT me the serenity..." It doesn't say "teach me how to manufacture my own serenity" but I swear that's how I've been living it out for going on a half-century. That's a long flippin stretch of exhausting self-centered living right there.
It occurs to me as I write this, that even this durn post is about me. AAAAARRRGH!! I can't get away from her! Yet I'm learning - s..l..o..w..l..y - that she is actually not such a bad egg. That everyone is human and on a journey from the cradle to the grave and sometimes it takes a while to realize why we are here.
I know why I am here now - to be of use. (Don't get me wrong, lord knows I've been used in the past, and often with my full cooperation.)
I mean to be of GOOD use - my Creator designed me for this purpose. How many barstools did I sit on wondering why He even bothered with me? - and now I get it, I completely get it.
He loves every single person, believer or otherwise, and He fashioned us to care for each other - to meet each other's needs, whatever and wherever. Absent that awareness, we (I) will always chase after a peace which eludes those whose perceived purpose is themselves.
Use me, Lord. Please - make good USE of me.
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