I shook my finger at someone today. I saw myself, a visual that made me pause.
I assure you this is not my confident approach. I noticed my movement, wished my hands had kept still.
Talking with my hands, reiterated my stance with finger pointing then for extra effect bouncing, a strong and affirmative nod.
My words were needed; they were justified.
Oh, the hard things, the tough stuff, the role of pointing out and redirecting the wrong.
I walked away, hands tied, heart uncertain.
How is it I’m looking all around, walking heavy, quick steps away from the issue, then I catch a glimpse and I bend to see more closely?
How it is, is God.
I consider it a gift, a feather found as I thought of the burden of being the one whose role requires speaking hard truth.
And following through.
Like a parent who only shows up when things get out of hand, I’m the one who comes in and takes charge, shouts hard truths to those who’ve never been told.
Let it go as long as I can then second, third, fourth, and fifth guess my reaction, a decision must be made.
This is the work of helping another; yet, knowing when perhaps you’ve helped too much.
The dirty little secret of the “helping” profession. Hurt people hurt people. People who’ve gone without will take all they are able, as much as you will give.
So, I walk with music after work, seeking a hint of the lengthy sabbatical I’ve been hinting at pursuing.
It’s evening. I’ve handled conflict. I’ve yawned through meetings and been frustrated by responses of others.
I walk. I run, this evening. I hear a song saying,
“Whatever’s in front of me help me to sing hallelujah!”
And I see hope, one bird up high flying alone against thick, thick sky.
I understand, the one left to stand alone, to stand up, stand their ground.
Left to fly alone.
To lay the foundation, give directions for growth, do our best to cultivate what’s not recognized as a seed that will grow if watered consistently with consistent expectations.
Sometimes I see the growth, others I only get to imagine what might eventually bloom.
And still others stay the same, taking longer to grow and I’m left to wonder if the breaking through ground happened ever.
I choose to believe, there was good in the soil we watered at the base of their feet, the place of hitting bottom, finding ways to rise anew.
I will always choose to believe, and always I err on the side of hope.
Hopeful every morning that I am a compassionate one holding accountable those whom God has placed within the reach of my helping hands.
“But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope. The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.”
Lamentations 3:22-23 ESV
So, tomorrow I’ll make decisions, I’ll hold accountable someone needing to be held accountable with more compassion than today, I pray.
Better today, more uplifted and “standing tall on the inside”, thanks to Jennifer Dukes Lee. Read her beautiful story about her father’s wisdom and bravery here: http://jenniferdukeslee.com/youre-feeling-weak-defeated-try/