Watching a video gone viral the other day, that achy good feeling shot straight through to that place inside that yearns for hope, hurtful hate buried beneath all that love and peace. A four-month-old boy seeing his mom for the first time, plastic glasses wrapped carefully around tender ears, perched on his small nose, the tiny lips slowly curving right up to heaven's gate. I grinned happy, watching it over and over again. And once more just because.
I want to believe I have enough to give away, to risk extending until it hurts in places once darkened by fear. And what if a smile worn gracefully pumps life into the clerk at the grocery store? Brightens the inky dark moment behind the mask worn by a next door neighbor, a co-worker. It's a start for sharing, it's infectious and smoothes out a wrinkly bad day.
Hard life muscles its way into the room, into the present moments audaciously daring you to abandon all that beautiful light. All that magnificent joy bearing down on the places that have the blazing possibility of standing tall under the weight of a bold yes to love, a risky yes to sharing and giving, a shout out to peace on earth.
Maybe it seems a tiny offering, a minuscule gift to share with the world. Maybe you want to give more today than yesterday and the mind frets over how many tomorrows are left on this journey. Perhaps in the deep middle of hard, when the steps are sluggish, uncertainties surround like a swarm of angry yellow-jackets, a smile is a courageous start. Especially, most importantly, when it fearlessly begins with your own.
The smile I saw that day on the video, the innocent joy sweeping over that four-month-old's face, it birthed a wondrous awe, tipped me right-side up, and I shared it too. That viral smile, a portrait of love, a hope once again miraculously renewed.
Our God loves to come; He wants to come forth in us, to rise up in all his beauty.
~Margaret Therkelsen~
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