My mate Charlie

MY MATE CHARLIE

In the last two years I have had the absolute joy of being a local lollipop man or, to give me my official title, “School Crossing Patrol Officer.” I prefer the former! I had no idea what a privilege it would be. Not only do I get to keep children – and parents – safe, but I get to put a smile on somebody’s face and make them feel special today. And I get paid for it! I have many stories to tell, most of them funny, but one sticks in my mind every day. 

Charlie was in year 6, which makes him about ten years old. He stood out from my very first day. He is shorter than most. His head is an unusual shape, he wears hearing aids, and walks with the aid of braces. Every morning, he struggles up the road unaided, except on those very rare occasions when he uses his wheelchair. By rare, I mean I can count on one hand. 

“Good morning, Charlie, how are you today?”

“Good thank you, and how are you? Have a good day.” 

“Hello Charlie, how was your day?”

“Good thank you, and how was yours?”

On one particular morning, I was not looking forward to a doctor’s appointment I had that morning. For the record, I struggle with a variety of irritating, but minor health issues but my anxiety enlarges them exponentially. 

“Charlie, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“How do you cope with all the extra challenges you face?”

“What do you mean?” So typical of Charlie. I explained. 

“Well,” he said thoughtfully, “Every day has good in it. Sometimes you just have to go looking for it.” 

“Thanks, Charlie, have a good day,” as I fought back the tears. It helped. 

The next day, I told the head teacher, who told me part of his story. A couple of days later I told his mum, who filled in the gaps. 

Charlie has a genetic condition; not just any old genetic condition, but one that has only twelve known cases in the entire world! It is not only the obvious, that which you can see: he wears a catheter along with a list of other issues. Charlie has had numerous operations with more to come. In spite of all that:

He is deputy head boy in the school and he competes in mini-triathlons to raise money to help other children in similar situations to himself.

That is my mate, Charlie. He left the school in July. What am I going to do every morning without those brief yet inspiring little chats? I’m sure there will be another Charlie. 

Why am I telling you all of this? 

We all need a little Charlie in our lives. They may not be called Charlie, but they bear the same hallmarks – kids who face their world in which the challenges are so much greater than any of mine with courage, humour and kindness. Charlie’s wisdom spoke not only into that day, when I needed it most, but into so many other days since. How do I know there is good in every day? The God, so powerfully expressed in the life of Jesus, who I follow, is a profoundly good God, whose kindness has rescued me from myself on more than one occasion. The world in which we live, as a work of art created by the hands of this God, must be good, even very good. 

In my experience, it seems so much easier to look for the bad stuff, for the disasters around the world, for the evil and corruption that seems to be everywhere we look. And yet, it requires the same amount of effort to pause. And breathe. And see the goodness that is hidden before our eyes in the natural world we live in, in our communities, and in the awesome lives of our friends and families. And that goodness is so good that we will find ourselves whispering, “Thank you, God.” “And, thank you, Charlie.”