Beyond The Broken

Maybe if you walk long enough, often enough, with eyes and heart wide open, and in the right places, it just happens. You see some remarkable things. And I have: a young girl learning to ride a bike for the first time and celebrating the accomplishment with her dad; a weekend duffer finding the sweet spot and watching in disbelief as his perfectly struck iron shot soars through the air and settles within inches of the cup; the special bond between an old man and his dog; a pair of 80+ year-old lovers still holding hands; a child taking their first steps; a little boy with skinned and bleeding knees mustering the courage to get back on his two-wheeler and try again; breathtaking sunrises, sunsets and rainbows; a father hugging his teenage son with intention and compassion;  the magic of a game-winning goal; a single mom teaching her son how to throw a football; a friend drying another friend’s tears; orchids in bloom; the kindness of strangers; Santa Claus riding on the back of a firetruck; and rain falling on one side of the street, but not the other; to name only a few.

But, it’s the things I sometimes see in the ordinary, in images I’m certain I’ve seen a thousand times before, but, thanks to insights gleaned from hard lessons learned, I now see differently (perhaps as they were always meant to be seen) – that inspire me, resonate most deeply in my soul, and often stop me in my tracks.  And, so it was on a recent Saturday morning, as I came across a young bird picking up a tattered piece of fabric on the sidewalk and carrying it to a perch in a nearby tree, where she was in the early stages of building a nest.  I really hadn’t planned to give the moment a second thought and didn’t, until few steps later when I felt that now familiar stir inside of me.  Uncertain of its source, I continued on, making the nearly 2 mile circle back and then I saw her again, this time sifting, with the determination and enthusiasm of a holiday shopper, through a small pile of brown leaves at the base of a tree.  It was then that tears started trickling down the sides of my face and I hurried home to put them on paper:

What does she see . . .

in the tattered piece of cloth torn from a since discarded blanket?

in the fragile twig convinced it lacks the strength to survive, let alone contribute?

in the delicate feather left behind by a recently departed friend?

in the scrap of paper torn in anger from another letter of rejection?

in the fallen brown leaves certain their life was over?

in the tender reed bruised and buffeted by one too many storms?

in the straw, the piece of string, the remnants of an old cotton ball, the low hanging moss?

What does she see . . .

in the brokenness?

in the discarded?

in the misshapen?

in the ill-fitting?

in the left for dead?

What does she see . . .

that we can’t or refuse to see – that we walk by, dismiss, disregard, trample upon?

She sees beyond.

She sees missing and essential pieces.

She sees the blueprint of a home that is uniquely hers.

Pieces that woven together with tenderness, perspective, patience and care will one day provide her and those she loves with warmth, comfort, security and shelter,

that is beautiful –

that she is (rightfully) proud of.

Maybe as we prepare to turn the page on a New Year, we can resolve (dare I say commit?) to stealing a page from my new feathered friend’s songbook. Maybe we can allow ourselves to look beyond what may, on their face, appear to be the mistakes, brokenness, and ill-fitting pieces of our (and others’) pasts (or presents). Maybe we can see them for what they are: pieces of something bigger, something stronger, something more life-supporting, something that woven together, tenderly, patiently, lovingly, with all the good is our “home” – what makes us uniquely beautiful.  Maybe in the process we can replace the shame and guilt that we have associated with them with rightful pride for having battled and overcome. Maybe, for just a minute (and then another), we can entertain the possibility that those who love us most and know us best have been right all along:  We are all of that – the broken and the beautiful – and still loved and worthy of love beyond measure.

The Need To Be Noticed

“We’re all just waiting for someone to notice—notice our pain, notice our scars, notice our fear, notice our joy, notice our triumphs, notice our courage.” Rachel Macy Stafford

It’s not often I get out for a Saturday morning walk before the break of dawn anymore. But, today I did – and I’m glad. Because as soon as I crossed the street that leads from the entrance to our apartment building to my walk route, I came across a small calico kitten lying in the dew-stained grass of a large field near the sidewalk. She was shivering cold, scared to death, and alone. My initial instinct was to scoop her up and take her home with me and I actually would’ve if I could’ve, but I’m allergic to cats; so, I did what, in the moment, seemed like the next best thing. Despite knowing that it likely would mean spending the remainder of my 6 mile journey sniffling and sneezing, I stopped, bent down as softly and as slowly as I could so as not to scare her away, and gently began to brush the tiny droplets of moisture left behind by a long night spent in the weeds off her back. As the trust between us grew, I moved my hand to the side of her face and began to stroke it for a few minutes, all the while staring in her eyes. By the time I stood up to continue on my walk, I could’ve sworn I saw her smile – not because I’d “rescued” her, but because I’d noticed her, taken a moment to care – offered a tiny seed of hope that today might be a little different, a little kinder than yesterday.

As I walked away, it occurred to me that there are lots of “little kittens” like my new friend walking around on two feet in this world. Some are doing their level best to hide in the weeds, while others are sharing our church pew on Sunday, our lunch room at work, our classroom at school, our Social Media networks – even our dining room table at home – insisting they’re “fine”. Yesterday, one of them, a young South Florida lawyer with a two year-old son and a beautiful wife put a gun to his head and took his own life. I didn’t know the man, except through a mutual friend, and I don’t pretend for a minute to have any understanding of the demons he was battling or how long he’d been fighting them. I’m also not naïve enough to believe for a minute that a few words of encouragement or affirmation would have made a meaningful difference, let alone led to a different outcome. But, maybe they could have helped if they’d come at the right time, been uttered by the right person, struck just the right chord or opened the door of hope just wide and long enough to allow his troubled soul to catch a glimpse of the possibility that tomorrow could be different – and maybe they will for someone like him, someone you know or may encounter as you walk through life.

I can’t help but think there’s a lesson to be learned from this young man and this morning’s encounter with my precious little friend. Perhaps it’s that we’re all in this Life thing together; that loneliness and fear are real and far more prevalent and life-threatening than we realize; that we all have the capacity to be a little more attentive to each other; that sometimes we are called to look beyond polite assurances to family, friends and colleagues that someone is “fine” into eyes that, on closer inspection, plainly reveal a deeper, darker truth – and not ignore it when we see it; that we can’t afford to make assumptions about someone’s happiness or emotional well-being based on how many FB friends or Twitter followers they have or how many smiling faces they post on Instagram; and that, contrary to what we may believe, all of us have the time to step outside of ourselves, to stop and offer an ear to listen, an open heart to empathize, and open arms to offer a moment of comfort and reassurance. Sometimes that moment may be all it takes to reignite a pilot light of hope, give birth to a commitment to take a first step on the road to recovery or the next, or at least inspire a willingness to finish out the day and give tomorrow a chance.

The little kitten wasn’t there when I made my way back to the apartment this morning. I’d like to think it’s because a friend came along and invited her to play or that she found her way home to a worried mom and dad. In fact, I did think that – and this time the smile was mine!

*Photo credit: Stephanie Martinez-Simm, Esq.

Let Me Be Love

Let Me Be Love (A Prayer)
(Adapted from Rachel Macy Stafford’s, “Only Love Today”)

Dear God,

Let me be love.

Not the shiny, perfectly worded, flashy, flowery love that comes when it’s convenient and goes when it’s not.

No, let me be the messy, genuine, put in the effort, feel it in your bones, Come As You Are kind of love.

Let me be the Show Up kind of love that is found where it is least expected and when it is most needed.

Let me be the Mountain Moving kind of love that offers and inspires hope and makes growth possible.

Let me be the Unconditional, Limitless kind of love that rises with the sun and stretches beyond human failings and shortcomings.

Let me be the Lighthouse kind of love, a beacon of light in the swirling storms of life that leads to a safe and peaceful harbor.

Let me be the All In kind of love that risks it all, holds nothing back, and encourages honesty and transparency.

Let me be the Wholly Accepting, Open-Hearted kind of love that makes for a soft place to lay one’s head at night for both the giver and the receiver.

Let me be that love.

Amen.

Image Credit: @ttetereva