- tinapizor
The Heart of Stone is Easy
I take part in a weekly writing challenge with Five Minute Friday, where I write on the prompt for 5 minutes and submit the writing unedited. Today's writing prompt is "Easy".
There is a monumental difference between having a heart of stone versus a heart of flesh. The heart of stone is easy. Life experiences leave an imprint on a young heart. My young beating heart's striving to love and be loved left calluses where vibrant red flesh once stood. The callus spread like a winter morning frost on a glass window. The view from the window is beautiful, but we dare not step outside.
Becoming so comfortable with my newfound protection, I added a matching wall. No battering ram could penetrate this fortress. I was safe, comfortable, anesthetised. From my fortress I could see others hurt, and sympathize, but it was their problem, not mine. I could hear harsh words and find them laughable. I proudly wore my blinders, but could still make a run for it if necessary. My stone heart was like wrapping myself in a shelter while bombs shattered the surrounding buildings.
It came with a Price
One day, I noticed I did not care much about anything. I wondered what was missing in me. I had little to no compassion. Having no answers on my own, I dared to pray. I knew God, and He definitely knew me. Afraid to go to Him for advice, I hesitated. Asking questions got me answers, and those answers were often uncomfortable, so I rarely asked. I was living in a place of not caring, so why did this trouble me? God removed my blinders without my permission. I saw situations which required the compassion locked inside me. The love He put there was no match for a wall of any height or thickness of concrete. I prayed, "I should care about this. Why do I not? God, help me see the way you want me to see?" Cringing at the prayer, I hurried out of the awkward space and on with my life, or so I thought.
The stone rapidly chipped away as I scattered to collect the pieces and hold them in place. No amount of plaster would do. I took my hands off the wall and ran after someone who was hurting. I took a meal to a sick friend. I comforted my neighbor. I showed vulnerability to my children. The red was showing through the stone, bright and vital. Scared, it beat harder, knocking off what was left of rubble and dust. It hurt there. It was scary there. There was love there. "What do I do, Lord? I dislike it here. It is not safe here. This is the place where I am unworthy. This is the place where I am rejected. This is the place where I am unloved." I flailed and pummeled and that is when something beautiful happened. He caught me.
