There is a child in my life who keeps presenting me with hearts. She sees them everywhere, and for months has faithfully brought them to me, sometimes as gifts and sometimes just to show. But both her seeing them and her faithfulness in sharing touch me.
This is my quiet, held-together child. The one who looks up at the clouds and can list, endlessly and in minute detail, what she sees there. The one who stuns me with how she uses words. The one who can sense, a paragraph away, the passage in a read-aloud that will make me cry and warn me, “Mom. Don’t you dare start crying!”
Because if I cry, she will have to, also.
It is overwhelming to even brush up against the pain in this world, just as much as it is overwhelming to brush up against the beauty.
It is hard to know what to do with it all, except maybe to practice faithfulness in seeing and responding and sharing, in as many ways as you are able.
So for you, today:
Subscribe to Dreamer by Email
