I cannot count how many times, over the past few years, I've had someone comment verbally or post virtually that I am brave, or that Bryant and I, as parents, are brave, or that Clark is a brave little girl, or that we, as a family...you get the point. And here's the thing; for a split second, I want to own it. Brave is BIG! Brave is one of those major flattery words. When you're a kid, you have adults asking you to be brave in many cases; immunizations, water skiing for the first time, singing or speaking in front of others, etc. Adults seem like they have the whole "bravery" thing figured out. As you get older, you learn so much more about life and pain and evils of the world, and bravery takes on a whole new meaning.
But here's the thing: I am not brave and neither is my beautiful, tenacious, fighter of a little girl. (I have learned not to speak for the other three folks in my house- trust that they speak PLENTY for themselves!) Maybe it's semantics that I'm playing with here, but what I strive to be is faithful. The scary part is that the little one is faithful, too! However, her faith is in Bryant and I. The innate, blind faith that every child has in their parents, unless or until they lose it. Until the parental humanness is detected. Until the halos and capes disappear from the periphery. Until they slowly learn that no matter how great the love, it can never be as great as the greatest.
I will admit that I did try the bravery thing for a while. It seemed like the thing that you're supposed to do or be, based on all that we are told while growing. But bravery is no match for faith, and when you are being held in faith by one that is most precious, you best be holding your faith in the One that is ever faithful. When the breakdown commences, you wonder why you lack strength or have the inability to carry the load. You muster just enough strength to stand back up again, only to be back on your knees a few days, or minutes, later. And in your pleading for strength, you get something else instead:
The Promise of Peace
“Peace is what I leave with you; it is my own peace that I give you. I do not give it as the world does. Do not be worried and upset; do not be afraid.” John 14:27
“But now, this is what the Lord says…Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine.” Isaiah 43:1
“The Lord is my light and my salvation—whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life—of whom shall I be afraid?” Psalm 27:1
“I prayed to the Lord, and he answered me. He freed me from all my fears.” Psalm 34:4
Over and over he promises the peace that comes with the same child-like faith that Clark has in us. Just in case we didn't hear it the first (or 17th) time. And we're so busy being brave and strong and making decisions that we forget who the Savior is. We start to think it's us, or the surgeon, or the knowledge.
If anyone sees anything in me, or her, or us, I hope it's a neon arrow above our heads that points upward. Mind you, our lot is so small in comparison to so, so, so many, and don't think, for even a second, that we don't know it. But in the hardest moments, he has always made good on his promises. Moments of peace in a physical manifestation that flows through my mind and body. Moments of grace too remarkable to be anything less than God-winks and surpass all understanding. Moments of clarity where the rocky path immediately becomes smooth and well-lit. Moments where God's presence, with me, FOR ME, is so clear that the gravity of it almost takes my breath away.
Does this mean that I don't appreciate the validation or encouragement that comes with every kindness from others? Absolutely not. Will I ever refute? Not likely. But I do hope I will make haste to move past that moment of flattery to find the words to give credit where credit is due:
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