I turned four weeks old yesterday.
It has been a rough week.
My ears, jaw, and teeth hurt. I’ve been waking up tired all week. The kids I work with hit me, kick me, and spit at me when I try to keep them safe or from hurting another child. I injured my foot last night. Someone lost their faith because of how I treated them. To my friends, everything I do is wrong, and even though my mistakes aren’t deliberate, they appear to be to them.
I toddle, I stumble, I fall. I’m all bruised and banged up. It hurts to walk.
I want my Daddy to pick me up and carry me for a while.
I need a hug from my Brother.
A few days ago, when He and I went for a walk, I noticed I have a serious driver’s side tan going on. My left arm is significantly darker than my right. My skin is pretty tan in the first place, but the difference in the two is pronounced.
Jesus laughed at me. “You’re closer to My color,” he chuckled, “on one side, at least.”
My hair is just past my shoulders, dark, and thick. It curls at the ends.
It must run in the family. He calls me His little sister sometimes. Maybe I look like it.
When I think about all the stuff I’m going through and how it feels, I think about what he went through. He didn’t have many friends, either, and people were mean to him. He was hurt, and he cried. Maybe he’s hurt his foot before, too.
And the cross.
When it comes to suffering, Jesus and I are starting to have more in common.
I think I’m okay with that. Maybe it runs in the family too.
My actions and choices may have cost someone their faith, but maybe my suffering will point someone who’s lost to Him.
I can only hope, because I don’t know what to pray other than tears.