She carries herself with grace, moving throughout the day in her silent shell. Part of her wants you to know the pain she feels in a body she can no longer control, but she's not used to calling attention to herself. And she's afraid that if she tells you, you still won't understand. She doesn't even understand it.
It's a disease with a name, but not a face.
There's judgment in the unknown; criticism and instruction for the next step. But sometimes-every time-what's needed the most gets swept aside in the 'not knowing what to say at all', because what's needed most is only love.
You see, my daughter would still like to go for a run today.
She would give anything to go on a six mile hike with her "all about the adventure" husband.
She would love to get out of bed and feel no pain; no discomfort at all.
She would like cheese on her burrito as well, and maybe even that chocolate chip cookie you hold in your hand, but she has to keep to the vegan diet her doctor says will help her the most, so she sits in silence while others enjoy what she cannot.
I watch her, and I hurt for her, as I do for all who suffer inside today, because what everyone else can do today is not always on her schedule.
So here's my question: what if we offer the afflicted--the ones we might not understand, the ones who carry something within their bodies that we just do not see--what if we only offered them our love today?
You might think you have the very answer they have been waiting to hear. You may want to offer a suggestion they haven't even thought of. (And maybe, you really do have the answers they need!) But what if you only offered them love? What if the diagnosis they need most today is only love?
I watch my girl. I defend her when others judge and question what they don't understand. (And I really get angry when the judgment is delivered right in front of her!) I don't understand this disease either, I only know that it has kidnapped my daughter's energetic body and left behind one that struggles to move throughout the day with joy. I know what she used to be, and what she's fighting to become once again, and I get overwhelmed at the length of time this has already taken from her plans.
But here is what I know...
She will still smile today.
She will continue to put His words into her heart, and meditate on the promises she has held to since she was a child.
And she won't even judge you when you give her advice, or show zero compassion over something she knows you've never experienced.
She will still love you, because she knows that is what you need most, too.
She's not my hero because she suffers; she's my hero because she chooses love in her suffering.
You would think she would be depleted of the very thing she gives each day, but her Father continues to set the table before her, and fills her cup to overflowing. I sit at that table with her, and watch as her cup silently spills over while others enjoy their abundant meal.
I love my girl for so many reasons, but most of all because of her choice to always love. She is the very best part of me, and each time I look at her, I am filled with only love.
So if you need the Father's love today, please find my girl.
I know she would love to share what's in her cup.
