I was told, many years ago on a trip to Sedona, Arizona with my family, that I absorb pain. If there is someone standing across the street from me and they are in physical or emotional distress, I will somehow zero in on them. When this happens, I try to take a moment to access the situation, but this has never been my first instinct. My first instinct is to react. To respond. To rescue. I do this often and sometimes to my own detriment. God did not provide me with the necessary body-type to carry people out of burning buildings, but he did give me the spirit to react as if I could. One of the many examples of "We make plans. God laughs." And yet, I have to believe that somehow, I am as I am meant to be.
So, my body is resonating with the pain of those who live over five thousand miles and an ocean away. I am looking for ways in which to escape from the pain. Their pain, my own pain. My body's pain. And so I began randomly scrolling through recent photos that I have taken with my cellphone. Merely a distraction, I know, but a necessary one, at that.
I came across these photos of my youngest Angel Daughter, AD4, with our Parolette, Cody, and I was struck by the old "people and their pets often resemble each other" theory. Momentarily, I was lifted out of the striking pain and transported to a place of tender amusement. How I love my children.
And how they try to ignore me when I am doting upon them.
Because if there is one way to find your way out of yourself, spend some time observing a teenager equipped with a cell phone and a laptop computer trying to ignore their parents admiration.
Or a six inch bird,
which shares the same feather-color and lack of enthusiasm for the parents amusement as said teenager.
And see who gives in first.
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