“Sometimes. I feel like a motherless child, sometimes…” The old jazz recording with Bessie Griffin plays, echoing my heart and the tears in my eyes. “…a long ways from home.”
It is a great old song reflecting the pain and anguish of a people trampled by life to the point that nothing seems possible. Even as the sun pours over us, there is a darkness within that overwhelms our heart and mind. These kind of days are not the ones we normally face, but there are some that leave me screaming at God. “Your anger is far and away too much for us; we’re at the end of our rope.” (Psalm 90.7)
As I wrestled with the emotions and the struggle, I turned and found myself gifted with kindness and empathy from a brother walking with me for a time. We may not be related, but he shares my heart. Our mothers may be different, but he has my back. Our fathers may not know each other, but the wisdom each brought to our lives is willingly shared.
I vividly remember the question of the moment. Do I look up or down, forward or back?
Overwhelmed by Hope, I looked up. Even as I did, I could hear whispers reminded me of the struggle that continued.
Life struggles are dangerously real. They can paralyze us, ensuring we do not have the energy or ability to act. They can dominate the strongest and bravest as easily as they can the weak.
Hope is as near as the person beside us. Our willingness to let a brother or sister lend a hand, voice, or ear, we invite Hope into our lives. The struggle does not go away, but now there are reinforcements joining us in battle. We are stronger; discovering at the same time there are others who have been beside us all along.
Our calling is to choose where we will look, how we will stand, and what we will do in the moment we have. Trusting the hand on my shoulder, I look up.
