I have a confession. There are moments that I find myself thinking: What in the world am I doing? Those moments could be around our dinner table when literally four people are speaking at once and no one seems to listening to any of it. They could be when one of those four people believes it is essential to correct some seemingly insignificant detail in someone else’s story. They could be when feet hit the stairs hard to make a point and a door gets slammed. It’s there, in that space that I hear that voice in my head saying: Who are you to sit with families, hear their stories, and seek opportunities for connection?
I was there the other day, listening to that message, wondering how people might see me differently if they were sitting beside me.
No screens. Find something else to do. There’s plenty of options. Go find one, preferably by yourself for a while.
I don’t remember what the other three found to occupy them. But, Lydia asked for crayons. Not long later, she handed me this. She had no agenda, no hidden motive, seemingly no point she wanted to make. She just decided to draw it—our family tree. Happy with the finished product, she wanted to share it.
She showed me the title in the center—Family tree—and made sure I noticed that there were six flowers on the tree for each one of us. She pointed out the roots reaching down deep to make the tree strong. And, she read the words aloud: Familys still have to grow more love togeter always.
{sigh}
You know what? I’m okay with the loud dinners and disagreements and corrections. They don’t disqualify me to do what I do. Navigating them by grace to grow more love together always qualifies me for what I do.