If you’ll come ’round here and look under this hood, you’ll see yer problem.
Problem is, he broke. Cracked right through. See that sturdy bit there, there in the middle, holding all the good bits in. Well, that broke and all those bits and pieces are scattered ’round.
Good news is, we can patch ‘im. And I’m sure with time, you’ll never even know he was broke.
In fact, I’m sure in time, he’ll be good as new. Catch is, you won’t know when. And the how’s still a little murky, but with the right amount of prayer and patience a good fix it man, I’m sure we can get things workin’ right agin!
That silly conversation is how I imagine my mechanic would describe Simeon’s heart.
Y’all, that child’s heart is broke clean through.
This weekend I went to the store and he sadly told Leo he lost his mama Monica. He imagined I’d left. Just like his mom. And that like his mom, I won’t come back.
Tonight, Leo closed the door to the bathroom and the crazy little fury lost his crackers and his cheese! I mean hitting, screaming, kicking, thrashing, raging crackers! Oh my soul, it was relatively brief, but it was b.i.g.
And when it was over, we piled up in his room and asked him what he was feeling and he said sad.
And then all those little tears he had left over from the rage poured right out of his face and his little lip flopped right out and he buried his head in Leo’s shoulder and sobbed “I no know why I sad.”
Oh my soul! Oh my heart. I know why. He’s sad and he’s angry and he’s scared because he’s been left before and something has happened that reminds him of that and he thinks we may just up and leave him too.
And y’all. Tonight, this past week, the past two weeks I have wanted to. I have wanted to get up and walk out, but I don’t. I don’t because just like I told him, I love him and will NEVER EVER NOTHING HE CAN EVER DO CAN MAKE ME LEAVE! NOTHING!
Not hitting, not screaming, not being sad, or angry, or scared, not raging, or breaking things, not crying, or throwing things, or pushing me, or following me, or yelling at me, or not talking to me, not giving me dirty looks, not being cold and heard hearted. Nothing. Nothing can make me leave.
Even if he’s broke clean through.
I’m all in. Until the end. Until he’s healing and beyond. Until his testimony is grace and mercy and wholeness. And then I’ll keep on staying and keep on loving.
Sadly, sometimes I need to see the really broken bits, the real raw places beneath the scabs of rage and hardness to remember that.