It's in the
falling down, one sees the value of being picked up. In that instant, where fear
is loudest, the slow-motion-tumble begins. The heart and mind join in a plea
for rescue. A razor-focus vision to be free from the fall.
The
blackberry thorns cut into his toddler flesh, tiny soft hands are ripped. Tears rush out
from behind the walls of his pride and make themselves abundantly seen. In that
frozen moment, pain speaks loudest, he is needy for my help.
I survey
his tiny form pinned within the thorns. Tossed off bike, in hasty disarray, form
splayed in helpless shock. He looks up at me stricken, with eyes wide, laying motionless in the twisted bramble. My arms instinctively open wide as I seek
the best place to take hold of his helpless body pierced and pressed deep in the
sharp unforgiving mass. Fast and sure I scoop him in my arms and cup my hands gently
around him. That close safe hold that dispels fear, shouts out over the pain.
I hear his
stunted breath scream in my ear and feel his heart pound. I deliberately breathe
slow and soft and remind him “I’ve got
you now, it's okay". Time stops for us as we wait for pain to pass. I need to
remind myself pain indeed shall pass, as his heart breaks all over my cheek. Fat
fast tears make there way down. I will my courage into him.
It's time
to take a deeper look at the damage as I release my grip. I Inspect each tiny finger for thorns
where hands mashed in tightly and knees hit earth. I open his fists and find the
source of his pain buried deep. His mind will-wishing the thorns to disappear yet his fists holds onto them with blind determination.
I'm
reminded how I hold my pain and shield it from sight. I have a revelation.
This deep seeded death grip I employ only buries my thoughts, like thorns, inward. Cutting soft
skin, shredding my courage.
I whisper
soft in this tiny boy’s ear and say “let me help, I can pull all the pain out”.
We watch together as the thorns are one by one tossed on the ground. The
process hurts more, just for a second, then there is the relief. A release of
tension aimed to shield, yet falling short to heal the wounds.
Only the ridding
of the source of our pain brings the healing balm we desperately hope for. For that we need to trust a helper. To trust The Helper. To trust that Love, is enough.
As we wash
the blood away the tears retreat. We rest in the knowing that we made it out of
the thorny pit and it wasn't too terribly bad. The focused togetherness lessened
the hurt. Our bond is closer because of this moment shared.
We
celebrate his ability to stay still and not resist the wicked bramble. Fighting pain only makes it worse. My resolved guidance for him to "Be still! I'm
coming for you. Hold on”. As my feet took me faster toward his crumbled body, all the
times I have hastily told him to “wait” for me today fall flat.
Stay still
and calm in your struggle friend, the body's struggle isn't too big for the
mind or heart to handle. Did I just say that? The physical warring in this life is not too
much for our spirit of courage to face.
I Pause. I
thank this tiny brave boy for believing in me in the peek of his fear. In this
thankfulness I begin to believe in myself a tiny bit more. In the people I have invited in on my journey. In the One whom loves me most.
