NOT SMALL

Sisters sit in a circle.

Sisters that are bought and chosen and accepted.


And one feels weak and she has a need and so she does the bravest thing any of us can do.

She takes down the wall and opens her mouth and she lets the words escape and flow out of her.

The words flow like the waterfall that is streaming down her face.


And the sisters, well, they nod. They know the words. And the pain and the fear.


With every word that comes, and with every tear that falls, the brave sister feels stronger and more free.


Time moves this family of women to the "next" on the agenda while each one promises themselves they will remember this moment, this need.

They each have their own way of remembering.

A hug. An e-mail with encouraging words.

Some remember with cards and street names and stamps.

Others will call or send a text.


These sisters have good hearts and good intentions.


But we all know that the grocery list in the purse calls and the kids need to be picked up from school and the laundry piles get higher and higher and surely someone else will remember the one with the pain and the tears.

But each one of us is that "someone else." Each one of us hears the call of the clock and the lists and the piles.

And no one remembers.


The sister that felt strong and free now feels small and silly.

But she is anything but small and silly. On that day, in that circle, she was the bravest of them all. Because sometimes, no all the time, the bravest thing we can do is to take down the wall and to let the words and the tears flow.

How we thank God that He is faithful to do without us 

what He would love to do through us.