Bouncing balls.

There are times when it really hits home that this life is just a training camp for heaven, and I'm in a remedial group.

Not long ago, a friend of mine was facing some personal problems and became very withdrawn. Whenever I spoke with her she seemed self-absorbed. Aspects of her personality that I'd always appreciated withered. She no longer called to chat, and gave no thought to the gifts we'd always exchanged for special occasions. She even stopped sending the little surprises that were one of her trademark gestures of friendship.

At first I tolerated the changes, knowing some of what she was going through and making allowances for her, as I imagine any good friend would do. I assumed things would blow over and everything would get back to normal. But as time wore on, even though the initial problems seemed to resolve, nothing changed. She didn't get ... well ... better.

Talking--and talking and talking--about her problems didn't seem to make any impression. She was fixated on this one part of her life that she felt powerless to change.

After a disappointing gift exchange during the holidays I was driving home and indulging in a private pity party. "Poor me," I mused. "It isn't fair. Why can't this be a normal Christmas? Can't she take a break from her emotional mess for the holidays?"

That's when I decided I'd done as much as humanly possible. I'd listened. I'd been compassionate. I'd made sure she knew I cared, and was there if she needed me. Piously, I washed my hands of the whole thing. The ball was in her court.

At least I thought it was, until it bounced back and conked me on the noggin. Suddenly I realized that doing all that was humanly possible isn't what God calls us to do. He's not human, and He invites us to act like Him. We're perfectly capable of acting like human beings any day of the week. Some folk are satisfied with that. They're called "people."

For others, that's not good enough. They're usually called "Christians." Though it's tempting to think that doing all that's humanly possible is enough, it's not much of a stretch. Jesus asked, "If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that?" (Matthew 5:46).

We're not called to love those who love us. We're called to go the extra mile and love those who don't love us; those who are obsessed with their problems and may not care about us all that much; those who may be downright annoying. We have to get past our human response and begin using that patient, forgiving divine response. How? By asking God to fill us with His patient, forgiving divine Spirit.

Friendships can get complicated. They don't necessarily improve simply because you begin applying a divine response to them--as I found out. Sometimes they just go limping along in an unsatisfactory way; their ultimate destiny unknown. That can be kind of dismal, because we're fond of happy endings: the boy gets the girl, the bad guys pay, friends make up.

But for the Christian, the process is more important than the end product. We're in training camp where training is the goal. Later, God promises, our hard work will pay off. For now, it's enough to keep our heads up and our eyes following that erratically bouncing ball. You never know from which direction it will come next.

Celeste perrino Walker juggles bouncing balls in Rutland, Vermont.