Take Heart

He clutches his ‘nearly-the-size-of-him’ backpack tightly to his chest. His shoes, somehow having landed on the wrong feet, stand motionless- flaps to the wind. But thankfully we remembered the bus pass. He holds the tiny stub of paper with the little bit of tape I stuck on for good measure, absently rubbing it against his cheek.

There is fear in his eyes.

He is going on a different bus today, but because he is right now alone, this experience is terrifying to him. It is unthinkable. To get on a vehicle you have never before traveled and trust that it will end up somewhere familiar is beyond his capability right now. All he wants is something sure and someone familiar. Someone recognizable to travel this road with him that will eventually take him toward home.

Don’t we all?

Life is lonely. And so very hard.

We were never promised easy. Never guaranteed a trouble-free road.

That road might look different depending on where you stand, but the road remains the same. Challenged with obstacles, roadblocks, detours, barriers and obstructions of every kind.

{“In this world you will have trouble.” It’s a certainty. A sure thing.}

I stand beside him with my hand on his back. I see the tiny tears welling up in his eyes, and my own heart breaks in two. Breaks into a piece for him and a piece saved for all the others that I will stand alongside in comfort and offer my heart of hope.

I crouch down beside and whisper those very words of hope that I believe. Words that I trust will bring him peace of mind and ease of trouble.

I tell him that his brother is on his way. It won’t be long, they will soon be reunited. We both look toward the door in anticipation. For when that older brother appears, all anxiety will subside. Brothers offer that kind of sustaining optimism sometimes. When they do, it is a powerful thing to behold.

{“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace.”}

Sometimes we wait for things to come to us. But sometimes we must move towards those things we know are waiting.

We two walk toward the outside door, through it and then up the stairs and towards the classroom buzzing with voices where we know Big Brother patiently waits for his own release.

The lost is found.

{“In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”}

We know this world is fraught with tribulation, difficulty, pain and hardship. We are all located somewhere on that continuum of trouble. Where we are located is different depending on the story, depending on the variables. But the outlook is hopeful no matter what the situation.

For He has overcome the world.
And that very fact makes all the difference.

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When We Are At Our Worst

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“To reveal someone’s beauty is to reveal their value by giving them time, attention and tenderness.  To love is not just to do something for them but to reveal to them their own uniqueness, to tell them that they are special and worthy of attention.” – Jean Vanier

I stand over her, feeling helpless. Hopeless. Maybe even a bit heart-less right now. It goes without saying, really: I am finding it hard to love right now. Finding it really hard to emotionally connect, even as I realize I MUST.  A full temper tantrum has ensued- complete with refusals, stubbornness, crying and whining: a perfect storm.  And she is fixed in front of me, un-moving- immobile, with a sulky frown permeating her features.  Anger is so unbecoming. And this anger- it is reaching inside me, threatening to pull me under.  Tentacles wrapped around my fragile patience. Causing me to find it difficult to keep the calm, cool collected-ness deemed so necessary in these situations.  I can feel the heat rising under my collar- I just don’t know what to do.  How can I persuade her? Convince and assuage her?  Our verbal exchanges having been reduced to a power struggle, I find myself pleading, only to hear the frustrating words retorted back from her mouth:

“NO.”

What do I do with that word?  Can I force a ‘no’ to become a ‘yes’?  Should I?

It is when we are at our worst that we need most to be reminded of how much we are loved.  Of who we are in love. This truth about others and myself helps me to more deeply understand those others I interact with both at home and at work.  When we show what appears to be our “worst sides” to the individuals with whom we are interacting, might it be that we are looking for some small confirmation of our own self-worth?  Looking for a sign that we could indeed be loved even in the midst of our recurring difficulty to exhibit love first?  Vanier (2008) states that love gestures which are filled with respect are often what instigate the belief in one’s own sense of self worth, even when that belief is buried under ‘anger, hatred and madness’.

We need love to show love.

Yesterday, I arrived home with much on my plate.  There is much going on in all our lives, as we can so easily attest to, along with witness via social media, conversational exchanges, electronic messaging, body language and the like; we read via the lines and through the lines coming to the conclusion that life is hard. Life is so, so hard.  Busy, stressful, fraught with trouble and sadness- HARD.  And these words would appear to be an absolute understatement.

I felt the pressure rising and inside me an inaudible ‘NO’ rose to the surface.  I felt the surge of defiance, tasted the bitterness of wrath.  And I lost my cool.  I lost it.

I got angry.

And suddenly, I was that little girl again that stormed the house and left over supper hour.  I was that little girl who later came home and went into hiding for a while (albeit, this time in her daughter’s room).  And I was that little girl who lay silent when the calling voices inquired where she might be.

When he finally found me, I was motionless, with a hand over my face.  And his tender tone brought me to tears.

I cried.

And the ‘no’ inside me melted away- along with the anger and rage and fear and worry and anxiety and all that threatened to pull me under.

Love has that kind of way with me.

For it is when we are at our worst that we need most to be reminded of how very much we are loved.

This messy, complicated life? {It’s worth it…}

She starts to talk, but her voice cracks. Tears are falling, even though I can’t see them over the phone-line. They’re there. Welling up in her eyes, free flowing down her cheeks. Splashing onto her hands and fingers- her chin trembling.

And even though I can’t see her- I know all about it, know that she is struggling. Struggling with accepting this. Struggling with understanding this. Struggling with living all this- putting one foot in front of the other. She is struggling with showing up each and every day to her lived reality.
Because showing up and facing this hard life that doggedly pursues us, day in and day out is one of the biggest obstacles we must overcome.

Life is hard.

She and I both know it. In fact, we all know it. And don’t we all just wish we could fix it up and take away all the messy? Take away all the trouble and pain and struggle and heartache we and our loved ones must endure? We just wish it would all vanish, leaving us with happiness and joy and peace as a trade-off. Because everywhere we look, it’s there.

Heart-ache.

It’s there. In our conversations. In our homes and our families. In our schools, and workplaces and communities. In our nation and scattered heavily throughout our world. Pain and heartache are there every time we turn on the news, turn on the television. This world is so full of trouble- it’s depressing. It’s certainly one of the surest things we can count on in this life.

And wouldn’t life be so much better without it there- without all that misery?
Because life would be so much better if it were perfect. And sometimes we look around and we compare ourselves and our lives to others. Maybe it’s simply comparing ourselves to what we see as the ideal. Maybe it is someone elses marriage. Or their seemingly perfectly-kept home. Or maybe it’s their children that we see as so amazing- and what we wouldn’t give to have our children behave/perform/act in the very same ways.

Maybe it’s another person’s career we’re after or their success in life we want. Maybe it comes down to money and health and overall happiness. We crave for what we do not have. Maybe it’s just everything at times- because things just look so bleak in our own lives. We look around and take stock of our troubled, pain-filled lives- finding they always fall short of where we’d like them to be.

Our lives are hard.

Maybe we might look around and see something we don’t have in our lives and think “if I only had that one thing”- that missing ingredient (which, if we had it, then would make everything just as it should be). Maybe it is something we see as missing within us, some imperfection:

Our struggle with weight.
Our frustration with appearance.
Our un-acceptance of our God-given personality.

Or maybe what eludes us is closer to home.

Our difficult relationships with significant others.
Our parenting mistakes.
Our chaotic households.

And when these things we hold near and dear to our hearts are in turmoil, doesn’t everything else seem to be affected? The whole world appears to be in disarray. Our lives are so colored by the success of what is going on inside our own minds. If we are not at peace within, there seemingly is no peace.

And when we live in such a state of personal discontentment, we look out and see the larger world around us and believe there is absolutely no hope.
How can there be when life is so full of pain? So full of struggle?

And so, that is exactly what discouragement and despair and disappointment can do to us. They restrain us, detain us- hold us in bondage. They pin us down, hold us back. Lock us up and leave us in darkness. For despair would have us to forget the joy and the sweet beauty that pain in its hardship can bring.

For what caterpillar in its simplicity could ever imagine that out of the pitiful ugly would come beautiful wings?

What soldier could ever explain the surrender of leaving all so as to serve a greater cause? It is a sacrifice made so that peace might come. All that hardship and sorrow and painful separation from family done so as to bring peace and freedom to the many.

What mother can ever forget the joy of delivering her precious children into this world? A journey taken for both mother and child that calls for great sacrifice and huge cost. It is hard, messy, difficult work to be born- to give birth, but what joy and precious beauty is brought because of it?

And for all of us. We forget that we are being made beautiful in time as well. Our lives count for something bigger- this is not all there is. Our pain is making us stronger. Our hardship causes us to grow more deeply in compassion. Our struggle helps us to become more empathic. And in sharing our heartaches, we help others to know that they are not alone.

We never are- for He is always with us.

And sometimes we forget to acknowledge that we’re in this life together. We are in this with other people. In this life with a God that loves us- who is always rooting for us, wanting us to win. We are in this life with a God who doesn’t expect perfection- He just asks that we show up to the imperfect, messy lives He’s given us to live and give them our all. Give it “mostly enough.” And might we all remember- not one of us humans is doing this life up perfectly. Because there is no perfect in the here and now. No such thing as flawless in this life.

Perfection is an ugly myth- it is a lie.

But for those who believe in the fullness of time, we know that someday we will have that which slips through our fingers today. Someday we will know and understand. Someday it will all be clear. And we hold fast to the hope that there is more to living life than merely surviving the messy present. More to it all than merely enduring the day to day heartache. For this world is not our home- He has set eternity in our hearts.

The story isn’t over.

And all the pain and trouble and heartache of this life are here to grow our hearts in understanding- grow our hearts in love. One toward another. So that we can come to realize: life is worth the living- worth doing it together.

It’s worth it all in spite of all the trouble we must face as we go through.

We are not alone.

Joyful in God’s hand of protection…

Little girls should never have to worry when they fall asleep at night.

Mine is sweetly sleeping, her hair a cascade of gold fanning her pillow.  Moments like this one are precious.  Cherished.

Minutes ago, she came padding down the stairs, wearing those fuzzy jammies with the puppies on them that are so cuddly after a bath.  There are worry lines written across her forehead.

“Mommy, can you lay down with me for a while?”

I am busy, and truth be told, I just want to sit and decompress after a draining day at work.  But instead of sitting, I am doing the dishes.  The housework seems so pressing just now.  The crumbs under the table, coffee stains on the counter, left-over potatoes still waiting to be scraped into a plastic container.

I sigh.  Then, I tell her to go back to bed.  I feel guilt almost immediately because this I know for sure: little girls should never have to worry when they fall asleep at night.

I go back up the stairs, and make my way into the dark room.  She is sniffling, her head turned, facing the wall.  I sit down beside her on the bed.  I am still feeling a bit miffed, as this extra visit was not part of tonight’s game plan, but I try to exercise patience.

“What is it,” I ask in as tender a voice as I can muster.  Can she sense my impatience?

She confides in me.   She is worried that when she falls asleep, we will leave, and she will be all alone in the house without a father or mother.

The impatience washes away, even though I know that she should know better.  What reason have I ever given her to feel this way?  But, she does feel fear, and I will validate her feelings, however unreasonable.

“Mommy and Daddy would never leave you,” I say, my voice softening.  “We will never leave you.”

I pivot so that I am now laying down next to her.  I reach my arm out and draw her close to me.  She is still whimpering, but I sense her relief in my embrace.  It is confirmation and assurance all wrapped up in one warm motion.   I hug her tightly and stroke her hair.  I gently reprimand myself: she should never have to worry when falling asleep at night.

Little girls, much like my own, are falling asleep tonight all over the globe.  Some, like my own, have been loved and patiently tucked in to make sweet dreams of bright tomorrows.   Their worries are brushed away with a gentle manner and kind touch.  Others have not been so blessed.  Their fears and worries much greater than that of my own dear child.   Worries for some of dangers that are real and present.  Fear that hovers in the dark.  Fear that isolates and shames.  Fear that destroys a little girl from one day becoming the woman she was meant to be.

This I know for sure: whomever the little girl, and whatever her life, little girls should never have to carry worry with them into the night.    God bless and watch over our precious little girls.