Uncomfortable Lens

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There was a story in a homily at work recently, and I haven't stopped smiling and squirming since. A man was ready to propose to a lady he had been courting for a while. But before he placed that ring, he wanted to be absolutely sure. So he hired a private investigator to dig into her background. Her character. Her past. Her fitness as a future partner. He kept his hands clean, used a third party, the whole operation was discreet.

The report came back glowing. She was wonderful. No concerns. A gem. However, the investigator added, in the past six months, she has been spending time with a truly terrible individual. Rude. Reckless. Involved in all sorts of unsavoury activities. Honestly, she deserves much better than him.

They attached the photos. The terrible individual was our man himself. I laughed out loud when I heard it. Then I sat there, caught.

How often am I that man? Standing at the window, scrutinizing everyone else's garden, demanding blossoms and shade and sweetness while my own soil lies completely untended. I want grace from others. Patience. Kindness. Humility. I want the world to hand me its best fruit. But who am I in that exchange? What have I bothered to grow in myself?

Lent is here. And this story has become my quiet companion for the season. Not a guilt trip, but a gentle nudge: Maybe start with yourself. If I want patience, am I patient? If I want grace, do I offer it? If I want people to see the best in me, have I bothered to see the best in them? It's almost funny how we can be so demanding outward while staying so generous inward.

So this Lent, I'm not just giving things up. I'm turning the lens around. I'm tending my own soil. Becoming the kind of person, whose presence is a gift, not a demand. The investigator isn't coming for anyone else. He's already found me and honestly. That's exactly where I needed to look


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