Learning not to lean

There is a picture that my parents have, my aunt and uncle have the same one, and a second set of aunt and uncle also have it. The picture is of three children, suspiciously crouched behind a set of steps, holding giant orange-and-black balloons. The looks on their faces would tell you that their whole world's happiness is wrapped up in the balloons, and in the company of one another. The latter is true, the former, however, might be misconstrued, as I know our whole world's happiness was wrapped in the security and love offered us by the six adults in the house.

My two cousins and I have remained close since that photo was taken about 24 years ago. Krystal has since married and moved to California, and David moved back to Texas from Mississippi, and married earlier this year.

Growing up it was me and Krystal, and our families respectively that wound up in Idaho together. Those years, formative for me, cemented forever the feeling of having a second set of parents, a second set of people to run to with my problems, a second set of ears to just listen and then help figure it all out. They left Idaho and returned to Texas before I was even a teenager, but the attachment remained. When I moved to Texas permanently and this aunt and uncle became my pastor and pastor's wife, the practice of sharing my worries and fears compounded. Once again, these miniscule threats to my peace of mind became theirs as well, although I now know bigger ones have always waited at the top of their mind's awareness.

(Hopefully) when we are children, we all have adults such as these. I think of what a wonderful childhood I had, and what a wonderful family I have today, and the picture I spoke of says it all. However, the three of us are no longer children, no longer babies. Nonetheless, (I can speak for myself if no one else) I still lean and depend heavily on the support and security that was in that house that day.

Recently, that changed. The tables have begun to turn, and now I must offer safety, security and even guidance to one or more of those all-important adults in my life. There was one night of fear and even selfishness, for lack of a better term, where my dreams were filled with needs and worries, none of which I could figure out without their help. Beginning the very next morning, their fears and worries were voiced to me, and out of love, honor, and respect, I could do nothing but start on the road to becoming whatever they needed me to be.

People constantly search for ways to be strong, fierce, even to be unaffected by what goes on around them. Ironically, I guess, I believe the purest form of strength is both found in, and refined by, love. Your love for someone else will propel you to set everything else aside and do what is necessary for the well being of that person or persons.

Think of a newly married, free-spirited man, holding his new born baby girl (yes, I'm stealing this from the insurance commercial). The first thing he thinks of is doing whatever is required to care for her forever, even in his absence. That is love. Think of the fear associated with being completely and totally responsible for another life (you already know if you are a parent), yet you find the strength to care for them.

It takes strength to forgive and love covers all sins. It takes strength to stand for what is right, and God's unconditional love encourages us to do this.

As you search for strength in your daily walk, look for love first. You will find the one, although a contrast in some ways, ultimately leads to the other.