Arms & Heart
I read somewhere that our hands grow out of the heart. In the womb, our arms are little branches that spring from the heart. I love this image. Our hands and our hearts are permanently and quietly connected. Everything you touch, you hold, you make is infused with the love originating from your heart.
Isaiah told us the other night that he wanted another family. He didn’t say it to spite us. He said it quite seriously. Daddy, may be in this one I would have a brother? Please?
If I think of my 5 years old self wanting things, they might have included a little sister, and I didn’t even loose a sibling. Can you blame him? How heartless is this world that gave him a brother and then, took him back. How cruel is that?
How can i help raise him in a manner that will support his unfolding tenderly into this ruthless, cruel world?
To heal, my hope for him is that the he uses his hands has a key to unleash what he feels, chooses a vocation that he loves- If only to mend his soul. My hope, is that he keeps acknowledging the pain, voicing it, labeling it. That perhaps, loosing his brother will teach him to feel everything and make this life bountiful and beautiful. To be a less cruel, a less ruthless man for the world. Presently, and for 2017, I sense this necessary.
In the meantime, maman will keep holding you tight. Has my arms where made to do just that.