“Let me tell you something. A man ain’t a
goddamn ax. Chopping, hacking, busting every goddamn minute of the day. Things
get to him. Things he can’t chop down because they’re inside.”
-Toni
Morrison
We sat on the grass at the park. He
insisted that we sit under the tree that provided a voluminous canopy above us.
It was not hot outside; in fact, it was a little chilly, but I came and sat
with him under the tree. We talked and joked a while. He sighed a heavy sigh
that traveled from the depths of his soul and came and hung like a heavy
blanket over us. I didn't have to ask him what was wrong. The words came out and
drowned us both in the despair they carried. When the deluge ended and we sat
in silence I looked at him. He hid his face by laying his head on my legs, an
unexpected action.
The sun kept creeping back and forth
behind the clouds, causing it to be unnecessarily chilly, but I hardly noticed.
His body was tense, and I could see
the stress and anguish he was desperately trying to hide. I wanted him to open his eyes to all the
amazing work that he had accomplished, and all the things he was accomplishing
right now. All that he saw as lack I saw them as victories leading to the epic
milestone for which he hungered.
He kept thinking of what he should've,
could've done. I know that feeling. That feeling of wasting time, of missing
opportunities, of not doing enough. That feeling of all the things that he
could have accomplished so he could be in a better place right now. I know. But
I reassured him that he was where he was supposed to be, that if those things
were supposed to be in his life they would be, that if they were supposed to be
there then this is the opportunity to prepare for them, so that the day they
come back he can be ready this time around.
I assured him that his life was precious;
it was worth more than he could imagine. I told him that he was on the right
path, that the he needed to keep climbing, keep pushing himself and keep the
vision in front of him. Everything would work out.
I spoke highly of him, told him of
my admiration of him. I spoke of his strength; that despite his feelings now,
he was still getting up and fighting, still persevering. I told him to rest.
His frustration was his soul requesting rest and refreshment. It’s good to
rest.
I caressed his head, stroked his
face. Everything is ok, I reassured him. You are doing great. And no, I’m not
just saying that. I’m not comparing you to anyone else that’s why I believe you
are where you are supposed to be. Comparison is the thief of joy, don’t you
know that?
Thank you, he whispered, squeezing
my waist.
I got you, I smiled. He dozed off.
I caressed his head some more and
prayed silently for him. I prayed for God’s strength to cover him. I asked the
Holy Spirit to go ahead of him and clear the path, and asked that He lift off
the heavy burden off him; lessen the load. I declared a refreshed spirit on
him, that he would receive rest in the next few days. I prayed that upon waking
up, his heart would be less heavy, and his mind would be clearer. I thanked God
for the promises over his life, and that destiny was pulling him, directing
him. I thanked God for his life. I thanked God for His mercy. I thanked Him for
the grace on his life, forever and ever, Amen.
I leaned my head against the tree
and closed my eyes, praying for peace and clarity for myself.
