I watched him cross the street.
Pretty face, for a man.
Head down, pocketed hands.
White, pale skin.
Gray, thinning hair, cut and combed like always--as far back as I can remember.
He has stayed trim.
His gate is steady, but he seems weighted down...
Every. Step. Difficult.
Have to keep moving...
I don't think the difficulty is in limbs
But in mind, in heart.
Where are his children? His grandchildren?
If you knew, you'd weep for him.
You'd know why his heart is broken.
I don't know all the reasons why his children have made the choices they have made,
But I know he hurts.
It's all over him.
Tears stream down my face.
His children... those beautiful, gifted, delightful children...
What laughter! What joy!... for a time...
But the beauty, the laughter, the giftedness--
LIFE takes more than that!
So. Much. More...
May God grant peace to brokenhearted parents.
May hope remain, and may they never quit praying.
Surely, our Hound of Heaven never quits trying to draw those precious souls to Himself--
As long as there is life, as long as there is a will that can be surrendered!
If you, my dear reader, are one of those brokenhearted parents, please don't ever lose sight of the reality of love, real love! God's kind of love! I'm not talking about affirmation. It isn't time for affirmation. You don't affirm a child who is running toward the flames of a raging fire. You run to rescue him! When he is an adult, you don't usually have the freedom to stop him, but never stop reminding him of what you fear is coming. You may be his only hope of coming to grips with reality. You may be the voice our Hound of Heaven can use!
With my love and prayers to all brokenhearted parents,