We’ve all been there... Rejected.
I’m not talking about when someone rejects your outfit, or rejects your sales pitch, or even your resume.
I’m talking about when they reject you.
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My previous two posts have revealed a crack in my armor, if you will. I have expressed a vulnerability of my own fears and doubts, and openly questioned my ability to navigate through what has turned out to be a fairly difficult stretch. Toss in a dose of mistrust that God truly has my back, and we've got a pretty potent combination...
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The Christmas season can be a bit polarizing, can’t it?
For some, Christmas marks a time of joy, where we celebrate the blessings of family and friends, offering gifts and treats, time and hugs; it is a time where we experience warmth, joy and child-like delight.
For others, Christmas serves as a brutal reminder of loss, where the “joys” of the season only serve to magnify the pain and suffering on the inside.
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I had the opportunity to celebrate my birthday over the weekend, and I was genuinely humbled by all of the love shown me by family, friends, and even those I don’t know particularly well.
It was such a contrast to a birthday I had a few years ago…
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My last 24 hours were contrasts on such heightened levels I honestly don’t know where to begin.
On Sunday evening I had the privilege of being a groomsman in a wedding of two lovely people who joyfully celebrated the beginning of a new life together.
On Monday I found out that a buddy of mine was hit by a car while on a morning jog and being held in the ICU in critical condition after emergency brain surgery.
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I hate saying goodbye. I mean, I’ve learned to be really good at it, almost to the point where I shut off my emotions and just say a warm, but heart-guarded adieu, but last week I had the opportunity to watch my brother pull off in his moving van as he headed two states east and by most measures, I didn’t handle it well…
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I have this coat that I wear. It is made of fur, and I’ve had it on all of my life. Since birth I’ve been wearing this coat around my shoulders, the heat of it keeping me warm and comfortable. It is such a part of me that I honestly can’t imagine life without it.
I suppose I must admit the weight and heat can be dreadfully uncomfortable at those times when the summer sun is scorching me. No doubt I would like to rid myself of this coat in the summer—when the sun’s light torments the land longer, hotter, and with a concentrated brutality. But like another layer of skin, I refuse to shed this coat of mine—we’ve been through a lot together, you see... I even have a name for the coat. It’s called Self, since I feel it is such an integral part of me; it and me, one in cause, one in duty, one in mission.
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used to think that the fascination with superheroes was reserved for those under the age of 12—where children dress up as Spiderman for Halloween, they play Superman in their backyards, or wield their light sabers around the house in hot pursuit of their villain father as he comes home from work (or is my household the only one where that happens)?
But a look at some of the summer blockbusters over recent years seems to suggest that as an adult society, we are quite taken by the Superhero theme—those characters who, on the outside, appear just like you and I, but on the inside know down deep that they possess some otherworldly power; a power that carries with it the darker temptation to use it for one’s own devices, but yet is intended for the good of a society in desperate need of rescuing.
Why, I wonder, the recent resurgence of the superhero stories?
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Growing up, as my father would tuck me in at night, he would often avail himself to hearing the frustrations of my day. I’m sure it was an act of loving patience for him as he would listen to the angst of a ten year old boy Billy said I was a bad basketball player, which would then morph into the insecurities of a young teenager I don’t know how to ask Jamie to the dance, to the late teenage I don’t know how to confront so-and-so on this issue. After listening intently and compassionately, he would then often quote the legendary Vince Lombardi:
“Fatigue makes cowards of us all.”
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