Thursday, October 25, 2007

My dearest God,

Rejection, turning one’s back on another, severing a relationship, is part of my family tree. As surely as mom, dad, and kids were planted in the tree, so has this fiendish devil slithered onto our tree. Generations of it. You’re in; you’re out. In my head I see the roots, the limbs, the branches. So many cuts off, so many of the dead lay fallen, cut off by someone for some reason or another. And not just one or two or three. Many.

I thought about drawing it out on paper, studying it. But then I did something similar a few years back. I examined our family using the family systems theory. I identified those whose lives were broken in some way. Wrote down their names and their connections and disconnections. Overwhelming.

At times sadness fills my soul to the top. For me rejection is just about the worst thing in the world. Human lives cut off from one another. There are legitimate reasons for people to cut themselves off from family, from abuse of every kind. But if abuse is not part of the picture, then why do it? An argument? A disagreement? A resentment? Is it really necessary? Is there anything so grave to give reason to chop off someone’s branch, rendering it dead?

My time with my family these last few days has been a mixed bag. We have had a great time together. We have laughed and laughed and laughed. But in between we shared hurts, disappointments, cut offs in our family. I take it so personally that I can actually feel the knife piercing my soul.

Not wanting to give in to it, yet, living with the reality of rejection is so painful, so life altering. Can stop you dead in your tracks.

I think that’s why I hug people. Don’t want anyone left out. Don’t want anyone to feel “outside”. Don’t want anyone feeling that no one cares. Want people to feel included, loved, cherished. A hug is more than the physical act of putting arms around someone and squeezing. Arms that circle round someone says, “You’re important, valuable; I recognize your worth.”

My ministry has been about hugging people, connecting with people. I hug everyone who comes through my line on Sunday mornings. It may be the only connection, the only link someone has to another human being. Being touched in a healthy sense gives wholeness and life. Makes a person feel good. Gives some people a reason to keep on going.

Not everyone wants a hug…from me. And that’s okay; but the hug is offered nonetheless. I don’t hold back, not from anyone.

And as I think about my own hugs, I think of your hugs, of your embrace. How you love your children. How you extend long arms and circle ‘round. How many times have I lay sorrowing and you came to me, embracing me, giving me value and love? How many moments have there been when I felt alone and your presence made me feel part of something, someone so great and beautiful? How many? So many, I cannot recall all of them. You filled me with love, your own divine love. You made me an integral part of your family. You welcomed me in. You told me it was a “forever” love.

I pick myself up. I stretch and lean toward the One who never fails to include me, to rescue me, to offer me agape love. I drink it in until I am overflowing. That’s when I have more than enough to give away.

Only when I trust
in you
to water my thirsty soul
do I find
the refreshment
I desperately need.
Only when I lean in
toward you
do I find
a constant support,
a rock
that will not move,
no matter
what earthquake
might threaten.
Only when I
offer you
my broken heart
can the mending begin.
Only when.

Love, Andrea