(Sigh). Another broken flower pot. Seems like everything in this house is broken. I take my eyes off her for a second and something else falls apart. I’ve noticed that I am less patient, easily frustrated. I am short with her; her name a loud groan on my lips, “Rhema!”
It’s happening more and more. She seems to show… something I’ve never seen before… what is it? Remorse? A sadness over the fact that she’s done something wrong even if she doesn’t quite understand it. She drops her head, her bottom lip trembles, and tears come to her eyes. And every time I break a little piece of my heart.
I turn away… these are not my best moments.
All the while I am keenly aware of our little audience of one, who sees everything and hears everything and forgets nothing. My attitude, my tone, my words – have mercy – she takes her cues from me.
What of my youngest, Lord? Will she be o.k.? She’s been given such a tender heart. An old soul, so perceptive and sensitive to the feelings of others, always quick to encourage.
Will you, God, in spite of me, foster these gifts in her as she lives life with her special sister? Will you keep her from becoming cynical, jaded and burnt out? Will she see her sister not as a bother or burden, but as valuable teacher and inspiration? Will you hold her during times of fear, frustration, embarassment or disappointment? Will you give her a deep bond with her sister – one that does not depend on spoken word or touch. Will you teach her to love without conditon and grow it in her, true and patient? Will you bless their relationship to last long after we are gone?
Soft words of comfort whispered, into my heart, into the room: “It will be o.k.”
and, humbled, there I find,
hope like a promise.