Like a parent who wants a child to walk, he allows me to wobble and fall, hovering close behind with arms out. Like a mother, he holds me close and whispers tenderness. Like a father, he has a big lap and a hearty laugh and when he says good job all is right and well, even when I all I want to do is be able to call mine on the phone and feel my place in the world again. Like a friend he offers his presence. Like a teacher he sets down a complicated book in front of me, gives me paper and pencil, and says wrestle with this for a bit. But if it gets to be too much, you can set it down for awhile. Like a counselor he says Go outside, laugh with your children, walk with that sweet husband, remember the broken all around you, remember my eye is on the sparrow too, call your friends. Laugh, and be broken. Love, and be broken. Eat, and be broken. Let being broken be a part of you, to where you can feel all my love for this beautiful messed up world and love it the way I do. Like a coach he says trust the process. I know how this will make you stronger.
Like the poet of poets that he is, he offers life and mystery together and when I remember his heart, there is always, always hope.