Pink Love

Healing is a phenomenal experience. It's second only to love. Yesterday, I was blessed to experience one of God's daily miracles.

I was visiting my mother who cares for a two-year-old second cousin. Many toddlers his age speak more than their parents might prefer. Words are clear, points are made. Not so with this youngster. His mother experienced a rough patch. Rough enough that he lives with my mom through foster care for the past several months.

He's active. Some might even say a bit hellish in the way he loves to fight with his boy cousins. You know how some baby's are constantly smiling as if a camera is ever lurking around corners, chairs and couches? Not this kid. Smiles are judiciously given when earned by appropriate entertainment or indulgence.

He and I haven't exchanged lots of smiles. I don't really do the kiddie voices, crazy sounds or funny faces. I'd be offended to hear someone say it of me, but the truth is I don't really do "play". I do fun, happy, bliss, joy, jokes and carefree calm. Play, though...not so much!

This particular evening, I'm telling my mom a story about something that happened recently. I do dabble in the occasional animated storytelling :)

I get going pretty good on this occasion with lots of emotion and dramatic movements. He's rolling all over the place, laughing up a storm at my antics. There was a bit more connection between us.

A few minutes later he's in his booster seat between meal courses--chicken all gone, grapes on their way--and his eyes lock with mine. What a look! He's known for staring grown folks down. Emotionless dare in piercing eyes, a touch of curiosity hidden behind the iris.

I like a good game of stare-down. I teach teenagers. This is what I call fun. Not play, though.

We hold the gaze. No blinking. Then, I saw it so clearly. I saw the pain. Knew it was there. Who doesn't expect this kid to know pain, feel hurt in his experience of perceived abandonment.

Staring at it moved the healer in me. I began to send an inch-thick beam of pink from my eyes through his and into his heart. The miniscule muscle movement around his eyes confirmed something was felt. Pink is the color of love. I had to send this kid some love. If eyes are a window to the soul, send it in like the sun. Thoughts, our imaginings, impact the world around us. Why not expect something miraculous.

A few minutes passed. Then he glanced away to his approaching dessert, grapes cut with a mother's love.

He started speaking and as usual, his words were indecipherable. No matter. He kept going. Then, I thought I distinguished a name. I asked him if he'd called this cousin's name. Next thing I know he's going on and on.

And I listened. The words were no clearer, but my listening was keen. I looked in his eyes as he spoke and could feel the story he was telling. He was desperate to have someone hear him, get him, confirm and validate his expression of how life was occurring for him. Closest thing to speaking in tongues I've heard in a while.

He kept going for some time. I proffered a varieties of "no kidding", "what else", "and then what happened" for as long as his eyes said it mattered.

His eyes sent out the closest thing to pure appreciation, I've experienced in a while. He felt listened to and it absolutely melted his heart. Neither of us will be the same again.

Is there any one of us who doesn't crave to be truly heard. Not instructed, not criticized, neither ignored or tolerated. Heard!

Pink Love.
Miraculous Beams.
Communication.

Now, playing with words, with language. That, I do. That, I love.