small broken things, we

I sit here on my pew saving seats for my teenagers who may be here for this special conference just before it starts.

The women's choir is warming up and I see the alto on the front row getting choked up, unable to get the words

creative commons from Chiceaux on flickr

"Praise the Lord of small broken things, who comforts our sorrows and washes our feet...
Praise the Lord of the faint and afraid...
He sees His dear children through mercy-filled eyes..."

She is wearing a silky dark green shirt and is holding her head tilted so that her long bangs fall over her eyes and hide her emotion.

But I see her. I see that there may be cracks in her eyes. Maybe in her heart.

We are the small things, yet grand. We are nothing, yet can have everything. 

And so I pray to be washed and made clean so that when I see Him I will be ready.  And He will see me.

a sculptor

Michelangelo would say that when he looked at a massive piece of marble he already could see what was inside.  His job was just to chip away at the outside and reveal what was there.

This is the way I feel sometimes about my life.  Not so much a predestination, but a plan.  A plan that asks for me to keep certain rules and live by certain values, so that things can play out to my best interest.

My hammers and chisels are gospel principles and my free will.  These are my tools.  And then I see the inside of the block.  And it is beautiful.

my own answer

Sometimes I look into their faces and see right through.  Right to the backs of their eyes. The backs of their eyes where there are sparks and flickers and brilliant colors.

These little kiddos don't have the same kinds of inhibitions you and I have.  They don't always have the same personal space issues.  As a matter of fact, one of my little guys likes to intentionally gently bump into me or my technicians in order to kind of ground himself.  To give his body a reference point.  A place to call home base.  Many of my specials have no problem coming right up close to my face and staring right at me when I talk to them or ask them questions.  Some never make eye contact, but those are more rare.

And when I just need to giggle at a funny response I get, or a random answer to a question, they often join in because they are right there in my space where the reaction is happening.  We share it.

We are within arm's reach during one-on-one time.

Q: What color are these flowers?  
A: My mommy has flowers.

Q: When do you go to bed?
A: My sister has boots.

Maybe I need to try answering questions with something that just needs to be said, whether it is in response to the question or not.  Maybe taking an opportunity to have an audience means that we give whatever answer we want, because someone is finally asking us something.

Q: Miss Karen, where do you live?
My Answer: Yes, I do love my job.  Thanks for asking.