Can you, with the record not in your favor, move forward with passion and remember that your calling in your profession is to positively influence the lives of young men, to help them see the value of reaction to adversity, the importance of being a part of something bigger than themselves, to try to impress upon them concepts that will inevitably help them be better sons, husbands, and fathers?
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In the heaviness of this world, I work to remind myself of first. Of how unnecessary my pointer finger is for clicking and how important my eyes are for collecting the captured. My heart bundles the broken just as much as the bliss.
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There's a binding in the middle. You feel it. You see the elderly with softer eyes. The younger ones, too. You know the mistakes that they'll make; you have earned those scars. Things like touch and smell and stillness have a way of revival in your veins. Beautiful lives in those moments. Laughter feels deeper and rest comes just a bit easier. Lessons fall into your lap over & over again. Ones learned and ones still hard to swallow.
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Her voice whispers conviction. A tone deliberate and consuming to those that surround her. It's deep from within yet stern & faint. Her request. "Up, peas."Again. Again. And again. She moves hope. Back and forth, she lives life with her simple two syllable request. It's found in the arms of Mama.
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The weekend was filled with forever keepsakes. No elaborate dress codes or napkins placed just so. But worship real for the one who marks our hearts His. The boys get it. And I love that they embrace it. Him. His heart for this world. They are catching onto what glory really means.
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