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Monday, December 13, 2004
found
It was a pretty ordinary weekend, with one extraordinary moment. On Saturday I witnessed the emotional collapse of a close friend, in a movie theatre washroom of all places. It was overwhelming to watch her face during the episode, her small face contorting with pain, wracked with hurt and incomprehension. I’ve never seen such a broken heart. It’s true that the ones closest to you leave the deepest wound, and whether we like it or not, we imitate the contours of their shape, echo their voice, bear the weight of their heart. So what do you do when you feel like what you’ve become is unbearable? What do you do when you feel like you can’t breathe, move, the pain stopping up your mind, lungs, core? What do you do when it just hurts so much?
Please, I beg you, talk to someone.
No one can do it alone.
Amidst the deafening roar there must be a reprieve, a moment of grace, to know you are not alone. No one can do it alone.
We hurt each other in ways inexplicable, sometimes making survival feel improbable. But believe it’ll be okay. Our hearts are resilient, though they emerge out of the wreckage with scars, a relief map of pain and disappointment.
Despite the all-consuming devastation of the moment I was well aware of the grace that rested in the commas, semi-colons and ellipses of the conversation. I have never felt God’s grace so tangibly before. I always forget that God doesn’t just work on Sundays, enclosed in a sanctuary, on bumper stickers, on pretty days. His ways are enigmatic, yet on Saturday, in the AMC washroom, I got it. However brief, however transient it was, for that singular instance, I understood what He wanted me to see. It’s not about instant comfort, promises that it’ll be peachy tomorrow. It may very well take the rest of her life to be “okay.” It’s about discovering another sliver of strength you didn’t know existed. It’s about finding a greater ability to hurt for someone. It’s about finding peace in another while enduring an ache that your face constantly betrays. I think to be aware of grace is to be aware of beauty in the ordinary-an optimist’s motto perhaps. There was something beautiful about the moment. I think it was because I finally believed who she was, and she saw me clearly for the first time after I shared about my mom. And it’s like that Frou Frou song says “…there’s beauty in the breakdown.”
No one can do it alone.
Be grace extended, and really listen to people. I learned that sometimes all it takes is for you to let go of your fear. I learned that sometimes, all someone needs is for you to not judge them, ask them what is wrong, listen to them and try and fight for them. We all need someone to fight for us, to be there for us, to be our champion.
Thanks. Love you, and I'll talk to you latahhh!
ps: i got compliments on my cookies... FOUR TIMES!
It was a pretty ordinary weekend, with one extraordinary moment. On Saturday I witnessed the emotional collapse of a close friend, in a movie theatre washroom of all places. It was overwhelming to watch her face during the episode, her small face contorting with pain, wracked with hurt and incomprehension. I’ve never seen such a broken heart. It’s true that the ones closest to you leave the deepest wound, and whether we like it or not, we imitate the contours of their shape, echo their voice, bear the weight of their heart. So what do you do when you feel like what you’ve become is unbearable? What do you do when you feel like you can’t breathe, move, the pain stopping up your mind, lungs, core? What do you do when it just hurts so much?
Please, I beg you, talk to someone.
No one can do it alone.
Amidst the deafening roar there must be a reprieve, a moment of grace, to know you are not alone. No one can do it alone.
We hurt each other in ways inexplicable, sometimes making survival feel improbable. But believe it’ll be okay. Our hearts are resilient, though they emerge out of the wreckage with scars, a relief map of pain and disappointment.
Despite the all-consuming devastation of the moment I was well aware of the grace that rested in the commas, semi-colons and ellipses of the conversation. I have never felt God’s grace so tangibly before. I always forget that God doesn’t just work on Sundays, enclosed in a sanctuary, on bumper stickers, on pretty days. His ways are enigmatic, yet on Saturday, in the AMC washroom, I got it. However brief, however transient it was, for that singular instance, I understood what He wanted me to see. It’s not about instant comfort, promises that it’ll be peachy tomorrow. It may very well take the rest of her life to be “okay.” It’s about discovering another sliver of strength you didn’t know existed. It’s about finding a greater ability to hurt for someone. It’s about finding peace in another while enduring an ache that your face constantly betrays. I think to be aware of grace is to be aware of beauty in the ordinary-an optimist’s motto perhaps. There was something beautiful about the moment. I think it was because I finally believed who she was, and she saw me clearly for the first time after I shared about my mom. And it’s like that Frou Frou song says “…there’s beauty in the breakdown.”
No one can do it alone.
Be grace extended, and really listen to people. I learned that sometimes all it takes is for you to let go of your fear. I learned that sometimes, all someone needs is for you to not judge them, ask them what is wrong, listen to them and try and fight for them. We all need someone to fight for us, to be there for us, to be our champion.
Thanks. Love you, and I'll talk to you latahhh!
ps: i got compliments on my cookies... FOUR TIMES!
// posted by naomi @ 11:12 a.m. 
