What Do I Owe You?

Laura Booz: Okay, my high school Physics teacher, Mr. Ralphs, may have had a ring of gray hair around his head, he may have had retirement in his eye, but he was a kid at heart. He made physics fun. 

I mean, while we were learning forces and energy, centripetal . . . cen-trip-etal . . . it was complicated—centripetal force. We built Rube Goldberg Machines, and Van de Graaff Generators.

In his free time, Mr. Ralphs even made toys. I mean, those smart kids, hand-whittled toys, with physics principles hidden inside. He’d bring them to class for us to play with and enjoy.

We even memorized formulas to the rhythm of the feathered head of the handcrafted drinking bird on his desk.

Can’t you just see it there? Well, I can, dipping down and up, down and up. 

So, you probably won’t be surprised that the most impactful thing that I learned from Mr. Ralphs had nothing to do with physics. It had to do with the day he started class by saying this, “Hey, my mom ordered some homemade toys from me, and when I dropped them off at her house last night she asked, ‘What do I owe you?’” And then Mr. Ralphs paused and his wrinkly face broke out into a huge smile. His bushy eyebrows shot up, he tilted his head back and laughed, and I had never seen him quite so delighted. 

So, I was tuned in when he said, “I looked at her and said, ‘Mother, what do you owe me? What do you owe me? Mother, the real question is, what do I owe you?’”

He was a grown man, an old man, having done his fair share of studying and working and creating, and yet standing there at his mother’s front door with a bundle of his own carefully handcrafted toys, he felt freshly astonished by her contribution to his life.

The feathered head of the handcrafted drinking bird went up and down, up and down, and up and down, as I imagined baby Mr. Ralphs, wrapped in the arms of his caring young mama. I wondered, Did she select special toys just to capture his attention? Did she sing him songs and read him books that built his kind heart? Did she take him to amusement parks in the summer and point out the mathematical magic behind the swings and the rollercoasters and the log flumes? 

I wondered if she helped him with his physics homework? Maybe she worked a second job to pay his way through college? Did she invite him over for Sunday night dinners and smile at her boy who just happened to be a grandpa now? Mother, what do you owe me? What do I owe you? 

The drinking bird continued down and up, down and up, and I wondered if I would be like Mr. Ralphs someday. Would I get it? Would I feel the same depth of gratitude when with a bundle of my life’s work in my arm when I stood at the door of the people who have loved and invested in me? 

My mother and father, all of my teachers, and friends, and people along the way that God has blessed me with. And when I stand before the Lord Himself, oh won’t I offer it all to the One who gave it to me in the first place. 

What do you owe me? What do I owe you? Who has given a gift to the Lord that He might be repaid? From Him, and through Him, and to Him are all things. To Him be glory forever. Amen. 

Expect Something Beautiful is a production of Revive Our Hearts calling women to freedom, fullness, and fruitfulness in Christ.