a sensitive heart.
“And so seated next to my father in the train compartment, I suddenly asked, “Father, what is sexsim?”
He turned to look at me, as he always did when answering a question, but to my surprise he said nothing. At last he stood up, lifted his traveling case off the floor and set it on the floor.
“Will you carry it off the train, Corrie?” he said.
I stood up and tugged at it. It was crammed with the watches and spare parts he had purchased that morning.
“It’s too heavy,” I said.
“Yes,” he said, “and it would be a pretty poor father who would ask his little girl to carry such a load. It’s the same way, Corrie, with knowledge. Some knowledge is too heavy for children. When you are older and stronger, you can bear it. For now you must trust me to carry it for you.”
i remember sitting on the dock of bryon’s family lake house while we were dating, speaking in dreamy tones as we talked about our future family and all of the things we were going to do. who were going to be. and not be. i remember trying to explain to him that i was excited to love my children so much that i would actually yell at them. and then have to apologize for yelling at them.
i don’t know if it was the dreamy tone in my voice that made it hard to articulate or i’m just that weird. but he met me with the same glance that you are giving right now. i was not a yeller. i was not a get upsetter, a worrier, or a sensitive soul. there have certainly been teenage hormones and insecurities that brought out emotion, pregnancy swings that brought out some tears, but overall, i’ve come to find that i’m on the “less emotional” “less sensitive” “does she have a heart?” side of the spectrum.
i get tear envy.
and to be so emotionally involved with someone that it actually brought me to lose my temper? now that sounded passionate.
and now? i pray & apologize fervently for raising my voice at my precious little ones. and wish away the ugly yelling and honestly, i see it for the selfishness that it is, not passion for the ones i love. whom i do love. with passion.
this same passion that has transformed me into being an apologetic yeller, has been stewing some even deeper passion. some highly emotional passion. and i’m struck by the notion that THIS is what i was trying to articulate all of those years ago.
i am becoming what i think my daughter needs me to be for her. and it’s kind of just happening. like there is a great big sovereign God who has heard my prayers to be able to love- really love- my son, my daughter, my daughter.
…my sensitive daughter who tries so hard to keep it together when she is saying good bye to a friend, family member, or stranger. who gets a look on her face that screams to me that someone at school or at church isn’t playing with her. not being mean to her, just not playing with her for 100% of their time together. she isn’t really quick to anger, but she sure is quick to being hurt. the girl loves DEEP and with a fierce loyalty that is inspiring. and i’m convinced that part of her feeling hurt sometimes, is because she is SO positive & excitable that she does not understand the other side.
and i’m just beginning to tread in these sensitive and passionate waters. i’m learning what waves we can ride and which ones we need to duck our heads into. together. and this same beautiful sensitivity that i see in her, it is creeping into my heart. and it’s so much better and so much wiser than the desire to want to yell at my kids so that i know i’m passionate. it’s seasoned and it’s true.
i want to be on the front lines so that i can protect my tender hearted daughter while she is in my care. not give her the load to carry on her own, until she is ready to carry it. i want to experience it, so i can empathize and encourage. embrace her God-given gift of a sensitive spirit. nurture it, sanctify it, commit it to His purposes, use it to share love, hope, and joy to others.
i cried twice yesterday out of joy and out of sadness for another. twice. in 1 day. and i loved it so very much. does this mean i am going to start throwing fits in public to empathize with another one of my sweet, sweet children…
happy monday, friends. happy monday.