Am I lovable yet? Am I doing it right yet? Or should I try harder. Yes! That is the answer. I will try harder and harder and harder until I get this stone rolled away. This self-doubt, this guilt, this shame. Someone yells at me, “Love yourself!” But there is hatred embedded in such a response. They don’t see it but I feel it. Am I strong enough yet? To just offer no response. To just see something I never saw before. That my poor little heart has been pounded into the ground for so long that it has nothing to offer but surrender. And not to the hatred but to the insight and wisdom to simply see. Am I lovable yet? Am I doing it right yet?
Still I don’t feel any better. And then I remember that Christmas Eve when I was a new widow and someone came and served me at the Marriott Courtyard and her name was Mary. And I know that only God can send angels when nothing less will do. And I am comforted and held in the arms of grace forever and ever, amen.
And the first paragraph only happened in my mind but the second one happened in my heart. And that, my friends, is an indication that the heart is our miracle-maker and it never does anything but sing.