To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket- safe, dark, motionless, airless--it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.
Sunday's service was intense for me. Seriously, if you can, click here to listen to it. I'm not even sure I could do a good recap of it--I feel like I remember moments in strobe light snippets, if that makes any sense at all. I know that I poked Mike and told him that I needed to post a link on the blog because I feel like Passing Pinwheels is all about how we heal our hearts instead of closing them down and shutting away all of our feelings. I know he used the above quote, because I wrote that down. I spent the rest the sermon soaking in the words and didn't write a thing down. I'll listen to it again.
After the sermon, they played a video by the Family Pastor about the 1.17 ministry. I can't find the video but I will link it if the post it. The ministry gets its name from Isaiah 1:17, Learn to do good. Seek Justice. Help the oppressed. Defend the cause of the fatherless. Anyone who knows me in person is smiling because I am all about justice! So, obviously I love this verse and because we are adopting, the video definitely tugged at my heart strings.
Before the video, Mike left to run to the bathroom and when he saw that they were going to play something on foster care and adoption, he decided to stay outside because he already felt a bit emotional.
I was fine, for the most part. But then Mark got up on stage. He started to speak. And then his voice broke. He said, "I cried when I filmed that video and I am going to cry now..."
I got up. I marched to the back of the room. As I burst out of the doors, raised my hands to hide my eyes and started weeping, Mike was already rushing towards where he knew I was going to come out. Because, you see, Mark did Garrett's funeral. And he cried the entire time he honored our Garrett's far too short life.
Mark's compassion and love for children is beautiful. And I am so thankful for it, even though I suspect I will cry every time I see him cry.
I asked Mike if we'd ever stop having moments like this. He said, "probably not." I don't really like it but, I'm also kind of thankful. Because it means I'm not titanium. My heart is not locked away for all that sometimes I wish I could make the hurting stop.