Hesitating to reopen the world of writing for years fearful of what it would rouse within here I sit, a moment courageously staring at the past squarely. It’s no wonder my heart beats strong for the needy, the desperate caught in the margins of life because I was no different. Mistakenly, we give each other the once over glance and assume all is well.
Fairly, the wear of struggle, the deeply grooved wrinkles of an unintended life and threadbare clothes are proof of a final noticeable gasp to the world at large, but the subtle pass by, invisible.
Surrounding us are the invisible sitting in the neighboring cubical, pulling-up at the traffic light, picking kids up from school, talking superficially on the playground all silently screaming for the reason to push on.
Teaching school children and living a rated G “happy” life, I was that invisible person craving more than a philosophical reason to breath. Escape from the tyranny life had become seemed impossible; it seemed simpler to expel myself and be finished than continue in an abusive marriage, a so-called life.
Perhaps I give myself more credit than deserved, but even now, it seems everyone was deceived, willingly believing the phony-at-best I portrayed. How could anyone sit idly while I was being destroyed in every way if aware? And yet it happened to me…it happens daily to someone you know.
We are part of the problem of pain as daily we put blinders on our eyes out of convenience. We don’t want to ASK because we don’t want to make a person ‘uncomfortable’; we don’t want to feel responsible for stirring the caldron of pain. More often, the question is avoided because OUR comfort level will be compromised.
“Oh how awkward, she’ll think I’m weird if I ask what’s wrong.”
While we’re preoccupied arguing with the Almighty Self, people drown under the radar, the weights of life a millstone around their necks.
For years after a mighty rescue from God He rebuilt my heart.
Following a mighty rescue from my loving God, He rebuilt my heart (an ongoing process). Years of being broken cannot be swiftly undone and the hurt of people I encountered was as obvious as their phony smile and carefree conversation. The question isn’t IF someone in our life is broken, it’s WHO.
From the youngest to the oldest, married or not, man or woman, light, dark or in-between suffocating pain doesn’t discriminate in any way. Who do you need to extend God’s hope to today?
Will you look beyond yourself and ask God to open your eyes to the needs of the invisible?