Fourteen: Poem
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| Photo by Zachary Steyer |
Every single soul is a poem. Michael Franti
They are found in the most unexpected places. People enter my life, sometimes for a moment, sometimes to stay, their poetry in some way leaving an indelible mark.
Just the other day, as I was sitting in a surgical center waiting room, there were two souls that captured my eye and then my heart. The were a father son duo, waiting for the child's brother to get out of surgery. The tattoo-covered Dad and his rock star son seemed to be ruling the waiting room as I approached. One glance my way, and Dad respectfully requested that his son move the pile of dinosaurs out of my way so I could crutch my way to a seat, and the rock star of a boy did so without hesitation.
This boy had energy, going form dinosaurs to slushie to Daddy's lap to climbing on the chairs. Dad used few words when giving directions: "Sit, please." "Come here." He used many when his boy was in his lap, "Yes, we'll see brother soon. The doctors are helping him feel better." "He's not going to be happy, so we're going to need to help him feel better. Can you help me with that?" "Yes, the doctors are helping him to feel better. We can help him be happy." The boy seemed more concerned with his brother's well-being than the toys and Dad was doing an amazing job having patience with and concern for his rambunctious little one.
The duo helped bring me peace as I sat, praying and trying to distract myself. The poetry of their souls and the poetry between them, made all the difference in my experience. It was love in action. Love between father and sons. Love between brothers. Concern for others. Genuine Love.
Today, I intend: to see the poetry in all I encounter; to celebrate the unique poem of the individual; to encourage the poem that is my soul to uplift others.
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Forty Days In Thought, Word, and Deed
Just the other day, as I was sitting in a surgical center waiting room, there were two souls that captured my eye and then my heart. The were a father son duo, waiting for the child's brother to get out of surgery. The tattoo-covered Dad and his rock star son seemed to be ruling the waiting room as I approached. One glance my way, and Dad respectfully requested that his son move the pile of dinosaurs out of my way so I could crutch my way to a seat, and the rock star of a boy did so without hesitation.
This boy had energy, going form dinosaurs to slushie to Daddy's lap to climbing on the chairs. Dad used few words when giving directions: "Sit, please." "Come here." He used many when his boy was in his lap, "Yes, we'll see brother soon. The doctors are helping him feel better." "He's not going to be happy, so we're going to need to help him feel better. Can you help me with that?" "Yes, the doctors are helping him to feel better. We can help him be happy." The boy seemed more concerned with his brother's well-being than the toys and Dad was doing an amazing job having patience with and concern for his rambunctious little one.
The duo helped bring me peace as I sat, praying and trying to distract myself. The poetry of their souls and the poetry between them, made all the difference in my experience. It was love in action. Love between father and sons. Love between brothers. Concern for others. Genuine Love.
Today, I intend: to see the poetry in all I encounter; to celebrate the unique poem of the individual; to encourage the poem that is my soul to uplift others.
________________________________________
Forty Days In Thought, Word, and Deed
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