We are all much more fagile then we would like to believe

Fragile: easily broken, shattered, or damaged; delicate; brittle; frail

I went downtown to a homeless shelter on Saturday and was creamed in a game of euchre, and a game of spades. Then Donna walked in. I met Donna a little over a month ago, back when it was still pretty cold. She came in Saturday wearing a huge oversize yellow fleece, which also happened to be soaking wet from the rain. As she pulled it over her head I noticed that for a top she was wearing a black tank top, and a mans suit vest. She was so thin and pale. I didn't know a lot about Donna, other then that her mom taught her to smoke and she has seizure disorders. Saturday I heard about how she was attacked by a man that used to be her boyfriend on the street, she had the wound, hidden by a bandage, on her hand to prove it.

It's easy to see physical frailty in people, physical brokenness. But how often do we take those moments, the pregnant ones right before we say something that can't be taken back, to think about what we're saying. How often do we cut people, or even ourselves with our sharp tongues? With one foul swoop, we're shattered, we've shattered others.
It's so not worth it. The damage that we enact in those moments cannot easily be fixed, words are not easily unspoken.
Our wounds are not easily fixed with a bandage. Long ago have we passed the age when our hurt is quickly forgotten by the kiss of a parent.

We are all much more fragile then we would like to believe. We strut through life as if we are unfazed by the hits, by the unmet expectations. We like to believe that if we can only get up one more time it will somehow all be better. I believe that. Even on the worst days, I get up again and again because there is hope that it will be better. I have hope.

We can be the people that hold our hands out and help other people up. Whether their wounds are physical, emotional, or psychological we can be the one that bandages their fragility in hope, kindness, love, and healing. The funniest thing I've found about hope, is that when you give it to other people, you find it for yourself.

So after Donna had removed the wet yellow fleece, she stood from the table, and shook the rain out of her hair. Then she began the hunt through her bags for a hair tie, and did not find one. No one around had one on their wrist either. I had one holding my hair back. So I pulled it out, and gave it to her. I had more in the car, plus, as I told Donna, I should wear my hair down more often. It was just a hair tie, but to Donna, in that moment, it helped. It was kindness, it was my way of practically expressing not only God's love for her, but my love for her. Because in spite of only meeting this woman twice, she has marked my heart with love, with hope, and with strength.

How are you bringing others hope and healing today? It doesn't have to be a homeless person, it doesn't have to be a stranger even. How are you practically showing the people you love, that you love them? How are you giving them hope, helping them stand up for the umpteenth time, how are you helping to heal them?