Tender Hearts and a Ten Year Old.

The alarm blares, and I peek out the window. The sun was going to make an appearance today. It's a day to be grateful.

I love driving to the outskirts of town to see a dear friend of mine, simply because of the drive time. Half hour each way to just think. The first five minutes today, I just sat in the beautiful quiet, soaking in the absence of noise.

Then I started making the lists. Ya know, of all the things that need to get taken care of.

Feed the tortoise, buy more lotion, finish addressing the envelopes.

But then, somewhere in the middle of the list, my mind just started to drift. To the ones in life who suffer. The young mom with chronic pain, the daughter in ICU, the fallen soldier's wife and kids, the unemployed dad. The list goes on. In this fast-whirling stage of my life, somehow driving has become my favorite place to cry out.

My favorite little man Nathan and I are close. Closer than your average nineteen and ten year old. I've marveled at this several times, wondering why him? Out of all the kids I have watched over the years, why is there such a special bond between the two of us?

The answer can't be boiled down to a sentence, that's for sure. But I'm beginning to see that a huge part of it is the similarity in our hearts. Nathan carries empathy, drive, and passion. I get that. It makes sense to me. Because my heart is wired the exact same way.

On several occasions, we have walked through the grocery store, or been seated at a restaurant, when Nate will lock eyes with me and whisper, "did you see that? That boy is in a wheelchair and he looks like YOUR age. I wonder if he wishes he could play sports" or, "sometimes I think about kids who can't eat ice cream like this and I just want to go and bring them some."

Just this week, I watched a man who struggled his way through Target, each step a heaved effort. I watched a mom burst into tears in the middle of the river trail, her kids in the stroller unsure how to respond.

For me, it's so so easy to be aware of pain. So much so that I can't contain it. Then I'M the one who draws the attention, tears surfacing at the most inopportune time, embarrassing and unstoppable.

I complain about it often. Jesus, why am I so emotional? Why am I so empathetic? Did that flash mob on YouTube seriously just make me cry like a total baby?

And every time, Jesus responds the same way. I created you that way, Daughter. I love you that way, Alyssa.

Could it be that sometimes I confuse a sad nature with the nature of the Spirit to bear the burdens of others with honor? Could it be that I was anointed this way at my new birth, to find the yoke, get beneath it, and hand it over to Jesus? With Him, the burden is light, but He never said it would be non-existent.

He never said this world wasn’t as delicate as breath, fragile and fleeting. He never said "follow me, and you won’t feel a thing". The heart is tender.

I am thankful for bold, for confident, for steadfast and stable.

But I'm also thankful for sensitive, tender, kind-hearted and compassionate.

... and I'm even more thankful that each of those can all fit together in the most beautiful way.

I'm praying that He let my love be tender like His, my perfectly crafted heart centered in His calm Creator hands.

and I'm praying that for Nathan, too.

You and I are perfectly created.

And loved. Deeply loved.

~Lyss