In the last month I have had the
opportunity to see a lot of good things and hear about a lot of sad things. Life is like that sometimes. Focusing on the good helps us to overcome the
bad.
Several times I heard my voice saying,
“I’m proud of you” to one member or another of the younger generation. And I mean it. I am sure I enjoy children more than the
average Bapka, but I revel in their grown-up accomplishments. It makes my heart smile.
I don’t even have to have a real,
solid, individual connection to an accomplished young person to feel pride for
them. It is not that I feel as though I
had anything to do with their success. I
just like to see people doing well what they do. I am energized by their energy.
So, what’s happened, you
ask? Get your coffee and let me
encourage you a bit.
I went to a concert in
Bloomington, Minnesota on a recent Friday night. I watched a family of girls singing praises
in perfect harmony and genuine joy who made my heart smile. I saw a young man on the keyboard smiling,
laughing, organizing an event which wove lives together from hither and
yon. I heard a band of young men playing
in synch full of energy and life! The
next day, the same group got together for brunch. Iron sharpening iron, their stories unknown
to one another, but often read by me.
They thought they shared a love
of music and Jesus only. If I had been
an artist, I might have drawn above them a picture of the brokenness that
really draws them together. I know their
stories, each. I have watched them face
tragedy, humiliation, trauma and other difficulties that - to someone else - might have justified
drug use, alcoholism, violence, bitterness, cynicism. Instead,
there they were giving hope and compassion to the world. Using their talents as a vehicle for good to
change the world. Doing well.
And making me say over and again,
“I’m so proud of you.”
Another church, another day, I
heard the words again repeated.
Different circumstances, different story, but the depth of the phrase
rang ever more true.
This time I had spent a
conversant hour with two very dear friends.
I listened, mostly, to them share their grief over someone’s
failure. Their personal sadness, their
personal “did I do enough?” questions, their personal fears laid bare. My heart hurt for them because I understand
the personal sense of loss when you watch someone failing. You can’t chose their path, you can’t walk
their steps, you can’t turn them back when they misjudge.
You can only question yourself
again and again, “did I do all I could to help them?”
Funny how I feel so personally
connected to someone’s failure. As
though it’s all my fault.
But I never feel responsible for
someone’s success. As though it’s
because of me.
I remember teaching my son,
Johnathon, to ride a bike. We lived at
the bottom of a steep hill and it seemed a perfect solution. I could help him up the hill a way and then
gravity would help him go down the hill making it a little less strenuous on
me. Up we would go and down again with
me holding the handlebars or the back of the seat and trying to help him learn
to balance. As soon as he would falter,
I would be there to right him.
It didn’t take long, not nearly
long enough to me. I let go and there he
went! Wind throwing his hair back,
daredevil smile covering his face, laughter bubbling! “You did it!” I called.
If he fell, it would surely have
been my fault. I would be readily on
hand to clean the wounds, comfort the boy and fix the bike. But when he rode away, it was all on him.
That’s how I feel when I say, “I’m
so proud of you.” I mean I’m glad you
are spreading your wings and doing well.
Go farther, do more, leave me in the dust!
But if you start to falter, I’ll
be here to catch you. I'll do all I can to get you started again. Heavy hearted, sad for the loss, disappointed
in myself for not doing more to hold you up – I’ll be here.
And when we get the bike off the
ground and the wind is lifting you again, I’ll say even more decidedly, “I’m so
proud of you!”
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or a Friend Named Jesus, please visit my website: Writer's Pages
Facebook: Author Kris A. Newman
Facebook: Author Kris A. Newman
Bless you Kris. You knew I would relate. You brought a lump to my throat and moisture to my eyes. Not sure what I'll do with this info, but it's comforting to know you, and probably countless others, understand. Thanks for the heads up. Write on!
ReplyDeleteKris:) I can say this with a big smile on my face, "I am SO very proud of you! Love ya and keep writing:)
ReplyDeleteEncouraging. la
ReplyDelete