Fridgeworthy

My fridge is covered in pictures, art, quotes, and various niknaks collected on our trips decorating every visible surface. There are enough magnets holding these various items to create a gravity well which helps explain why I am often fixated on the contents of the fridge; excess gravity.

One of the most ‘fridgeworthy’ quotes is this handwritten note by my father-in-law:

There are no ordinary people - you have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, culture, arts, civilizations--these are mortal; and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit--immortal horrors or everlasting splendors...Next to the blessed sacrament itself, your neighbor is the holiest object presented to your senses. [C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory p. 15] 

That quote has been on my there over 29 years. Good fridge, great quote, it reminds me how much I love and miss my him, and the person I hope I am becoming, a holy everlasting splendor. I have always imagined Clive wrote this as he the shocking reality that God has knitted each of us together, what we are all "fearfully and wonderfully made." (Psalm 139:13-14)

The Story

You might also see adorning my fridge a painting by a friend of mine, we will call him Travis, who was struggling with depression and self-loathing. He gave me the painting as a gift along with an apology for its lack of ‘beauty and value’ before I’d even seen it. He timidly handed it to me with a, “I know you will probably throw this away but I wanted to give you something” kind of gift. It was a cry for acceptance and fear of rejection kind of gift. His heart was very much on his sleeve, I could sense it there, beating and fragile.

I reverently took the gift, gazed upon it and thanked him sincerely. I complimented its vibrant colors and composition and what I saw within its abstractions, shapes, and textures. God whispered to me how to begin healing the open wound of rejection that darkened my friend’s soul.

We journeyed to my fridge, his painting in hand. I explained what being fridgeworthy meant to me and my family. I paid special attention to the Lewis quote and told him my father-in-law wrote it. I made some space and found a magnet and placed the painting on the fridge and we gazed at it together. His eyes furtively glancing over to see if I was still looking at his gift. After a little while I turned to him and said, “Travis, your painting is fridgeworthy and you are fearfully and wonderfully made.”

Some part of Travis’s wound healed that day and when he came to visit, he always made sure to look at his painting and the quote. You see Travis’s parents never displayed any of his art, ever. There was no space for his Thanksgiving hand-painted turkey or his macaroni Mother’s Day card or Father’s Day cut out tie and his art became a private thing. Travis kept his art hidden until it found its way on my fridge. For the first time in his life, he felt accepted, valuable, honored, and loved. Laughter and tears accompanied my solemn placement of the painting upon the fridge.

I imagine God has a “fridge” too and on it are pictures of all of us and our finger-painted-macaroni-glued gifts to Him that He has lovingly places there so that we know beyond a shadow of a doubt, in as many ways as its possible to know, that we are loved and cherished; we are all fridge-worthy.

When I think about rainbows and sunrises and sunsets, the beauty of the world and universe, when I look deeply at the intricate way that I am put together and remember that even more wonder and splendor is unseen in the spiritual realms in which I also reside, I stand in awe at the beauty, truth, and goodness that each of us are. We are full of so much promise and potential. My purpose is to help people know they are beloved of God; that they are fridge-worthy.