The older I get, the easier it is to cry.
I start to see more of my mother in me; staying awake through the watch of the night and the dawn of the day to be on bended knee. And I start to understand what it means to be broken until there's nothing left to break. To cry until there are no tears left to spill.
Things change as you grow older.
I remember how as a little boy, my heart would stop and shrink at the terrifying sound of thunder. But these days, I welcome the echoing rumbles and bolts of light that tear through the sky. Often times I find myself foolishly armed with a camera, instead of an umbrella. To see the relentless pursuit of each rain drop to reach the ground, and not return void to the Maker. This Scripture and this song said it better... Yet these rain drops and tear drops aren't all that different, but are bound in the same. Towards the same. With everything that is shed of the skies and of our eyes, being held in the Hands of a Maker. And it all goes back to it's rightful place; a place where the Perennial and the pain has purpose that does not return void. And with my knees anchored to the ground, I'm anchored in that hope.
The older I get, I slowly start to get it.
These days, I'm starting to understand a kind of love so fierce, that it drives you to protect the ones you love. A kind of love so sacrificial, that it makes you a shield for every arrow. A kind of love so transformational, that it changes you into something that you're not. To protect the vulnerable and the weak, and to defend the cause of the fatherless and the widow. The best part of my day are the moments I experience that kind of love for the ones that I share my existence with.
The ones who cry beckoning to be held. The ones who rest their emaciated bodies in my embrace. The ones who can't move a muscle, and the ones who can't lift a limb. The ones who almost automatically close their eyes when their heads meet my shoulders. The ones who kiss me square on the lips when I give them the side of my face. The ones who open their mouths wide (while I mimic with mine), so that I can put food in theirs. The best part of my day are these moments that make me feel like a father - and I really can't wait for the day I get to adopt the orphaned ones to live in that love.
But then, there are those moments when I'm reminded of the reciprocal... when the ones who grip my hand, make me realize that I'm also held in the palm of the Hands that hold the heavens. When the ones who smile into my eyes, make me realize that I'm also staring into the Image of the Infinite.
Love reminds me how the substance of my love is only but a shadow of the Cross. The Fierce Love, the Ultimate Sacrifice, the Transforming Truth. Love remembers when the Father of Creation became a Son of Man. And the older I get, the more I pray to see of the Son in me.
I start to see more of my mother in me; staying awake through the watch of the night and the dawn of the day to be on bended knee. And I start to understand what it means to be broken until there's nothing left to break. To cry until there are no tears left to spill.
Things change as you grow older.
I remember how as a little boy, my heart would stop and shrink at the terrifying sound of thunder. But these days, I welcome the echoing rumbles and bolts of light that tear through the sky. Often times I find myself foolishly armed with a camera, instead of an umbrella. To see the relentless pursuit of each rain drop to reach the ground, and not return void to the Maker. This Scripture and this song said it better... Yet these rain drops and tear drops aren't all that different, but are bound in the same. Towards the same. With everything that is shed of the skies and of our eyes, being held in the Hands of a Maker. And it all goes back to it's rightful place; a place where the Perennial and the pain has purpose that does not return void. And with my knees anchored to the ground, I'm anchored in that hope.
These days, I'm starting to understand a kind of love so fierce, that it drives you to protect the ones you love. A kind of love so sacrificial, that it makes you a shield for every arrow. A kind of love so transformational, that it changes you into something that you're not. To protect the vulnerable and the weak, and to defend the cause of the fatherless and the widow. The best part of my day are the moments I experience that kind of love for the ones that I share my existence with.
The ones who cry beckoning to be held. The ones who rest their emaciated bodies in my embrace. The ones who can't move a muscle, and the ones who can't lift a limb. The ones who almost automatically close their eyes when their heads meet my shoulders. The ones who kiss me square on the lips when I give them the side of my face. The ones who open their mouths wide (while I mimic with mine), so that I can put food in theirs. The best part of my day are these moments that make me feel like a father - and I really can't wait for the day I get to adopt the orphaned ones to live in that love.
But then, there are those moments when I'm reminded of the reciprocal... when the ones who grip my hand, make me realize that I'm also held in the palm of the Hands that hold the heavens. When the ones who smile into my eyes, make me realize that I'm also staring into the Image of the Infinite.
Love reminds me how the substance of my love is only but a shadow of the Cross. The Fierce Love, the Ultimate Sacrifice, the Transforming Truth. Love remembers when the Father of Creation became a Son of Man. And the older I get, the more I pray to see of the Son in me.
Dear Jobin. I read every update and for those few moments, I think of you with Love, remember smiling at each other, and grow quiet and thankful for you and me and what we share. In gratitude friend, and connection. Erin
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