Monday, November 23, 2009


For days her favourite game was climbing on the doll high chair, up on the play table. She'd get on the table and take the leap onto the cough with great joy, with laughter, always looking back to check that we were watching her. She did this over and over. She never tired of it, however, we did.

Today she went back to the doll high chair once again to partake in this great adventure, in this pleasure. Things were different this time, she could not get her knee up on the seat. It had to be the jeans she was wearing that inhibited her. She was ignorant of that and tried over and over to get her knee up to no avail. I wanted to go and hoist her up, cause even though I was not a fan of this game, it was hard for me to watch her distress. I wanted to go and solve her problem. To assist her in the journey she had come to love. But I didn't. Instead I remained silent, still, as I realized a parallel in my own life.

A dear family member of mine has been 'stuck' so to speak. I really want to help her. I give her advice, and resources, pep talks, offer help. I think I can 'save' her. I cannot. This is her journey to live. It's her life. She has the right to make the choices she desires. Who am I to rob her of realizing her own path. So I am silenced, still, in agony as I watch her try and try again to no avail. I so want to go and give her a little push. But when she'd try again on her own she won't know how to do it herself. She won't realize that it's her 'jeans' that are getting in the way. She'd be dependant on others, and not able to journey free and with power.

I am grieving. What? I am not so sure. I guess I grieve the fact that I can't save her. I am powerless. I am afraid that she might not get through this. I want her in my life. I want her to have a joyful life, a healthy life. But it is her life. I have my own to work through.

Jesus, into your hands I commit myself. My fears. My longings. My love. My loved one. The journey of life is full of bumps and obstacles. I have lived long enough that if it is not one thing, there's another that can leave you stressed, and afraid. It's finding joy midst those times. Midst the chaos that is life. To find beauty that comes through ashes. To find God, and a meaning far greater than my meager existence.

I am not sure that this all makes sense. I am trying to process these feelings myself. Hopefully through writing down my thoughts I will see more clearly. Right now things are a haze. I so badly want to curl up in Jesus' lap.

1 comment:

  1. It makes sense! It's hard to let people have their own path. I'm reading "dumbing us down" and he talks about how we are robbing children of self-discovery by giving them so little private time. So good job letting your little work things out and discover her path. And same with your other loved one.