God speaks to each of us as he makes us,
then walks with us silently out of the night.
These are the words we dimly hear:
You, sent out beyond your recall,
go to the limits of your longing.
Embody me.
Flare up like a flame
and make big shadows I can move in.
Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.
Just keep going. No feeling is final.
Don’t let yourself lose me.
Nearby is the country they call life.
You will know it by its seriousness.
Give me your hand.
-Rainer Maire Rilke
it's the little things that break me.
the signature in a yearbook "we made it! (heart) your very best friend ____" and feeling the absence of that for your 17 year old who stopped school the first month of 9th grade because it was all too much. who has no very best friend, not really. it's not the proms and the drivers license and the college tours.
it's the loneliness.
it's in the remembering of my life at 17 and how important it was to break off from my parents and become my own. how differentiation was desired and needed and happened like every other milestone. milestones i've been watching and waiting for since her birth- some reached delayed- some never attained.
this summer she's going to sleep-away camp for 5 nights. it's a a camp for kids with special needs. she's terrified. for the past 6 months she will wake in the night, "what if i'm bullied?" "what if people are mean teasing me?" "what if then i become mean?" it's the same questions over and over. a deep fear of rejection. a fear of her own failure. a fear of the loneliness that sits at the the bottom of both.
i put on a good face. i listen. i tell her that she won't be bullied because i really believe that she won't. but inside i'm scared for her. just like i was when i dropped her off her first day of kindergarden with her giant hello kitty backpack down to her knees and kissed her little blonde head and watched her limp walk into a giant elementary school to be eaten by life. and she was, we heard years later, by kids who did 'mean tease' and bully, leaving scars on an already wounded girl.
it is what it is.
this.
for her. for me.
in the savory moments and the sour ones.
she will go and i will settle her in. i will believe in her. her goodness. her bravery. i will give her back to God like i do everyday, and pull my ego from hers and let her be who she is.
and God will speak to her as He made her. and speak to me as He made me.
and walk with us (both) silently out of the night.
may she find the limits of her longing, and go to them.
may she flare up like a flame
may she keep going, in the beauty and the terror, both
may she never lose the One who made her
may she take hold of His hand.
then walks with us silently out of the night.
These are the words we dimly hear:
You, sent out beyond your recall,
go to the limits of your longing.
Embody me.
Flare up like a flame
and make big shadows I can move in.
Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.
Just keep going. No feeling is final.
Don’t let yourself lose me.
Nearby is the country they call life.
You will know it by its seriousness.
Give me your hand.
-Rainer Maire Rilke
it's the little things that break me.
the signature in a yearbook "we made it! (heart) your very best friend ____" and feeling the absence of that for your 17 year old who stopped school the first month of 9th grade because it was all too much. who has no very best friend, not really. it's not the proms and the drivers license and the college tours.
it's the loneliness.
it's in the remembering of my life at 17 and how important it was to break off from my parents and become my own. how differentiation was desired and needed and happened like every other milestone. milestones i've been watching and waiting for since her birth- some reached delayed- some never attained.
this summer she's going to sleep-away camp for 5 nights. it's a a camp for kids with special needs. she's terrified. for the past 6 months she will wake in the night, "what if i'm bullied?" "what if people are mean teasing me?" "what if then i become mean?" it's the same questions over and over. a deep fear of rejection. a fear of her own failure. a fear of the loneliness that sits at the the bottom of both.
i put on a good face. i listen. i tell her that she won't be bullied because i really believe that she won't. but inside i'm scared for her. just like i was when i dropped her off her first day of kindergarden with her giant hello kitty backpack down to her knees and kissed her little blonde head and watched her limp walk into a giant elementary school to be eaten by life. and she was, we heard years later, by kids who did 'mean tease' and bully, leaving scars on an already wounded girl.
it is what it is.
this.
for her. for me.
in the savory moments and the sour ones.
she will go and i will settle her in. i will believe in her. her goodness. her bravery. i will give her back to God like i do everyday, and pull my ego from hers and let her be who she is.
and God will speak to her as He made her. and speak to me as He made me.
and walk with us (both) silently out of the night.
may she find the limits of her longing, and go to them.
may she flare up like a flame
may she keep going, in the beauty and the terror, both
may she never lose the One who made her
may she take hold of His hand.
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