I am water soft enough to offer life tough enough to drown it away -Rupi Kaur, Milk & Hone
My Grandma and I tried to watch Slingblade many years ago. By the second scene, I was dizzy, nauseaus and tearful. I told her I couldn’t watch it. She told me I had a tender heart. I had never before thought of tenderness. But it definitely felt true.
Then there was the time when things went south with a family member. Same tender heart. Very different reaction. Tears? Not so much. Slighted, incensed, betrayed? Yes, very much. Tenderness made me vulnerable. But it also made me fierce.
A tender heart can make us soft, shaky, tearful and undone. It can also make us bold, indignant and ready to defend what we love. Our tender hearts are what ache when there is pain and also rise up when there has been enough.
The most recent onslaught of violence in our world has shaken many of us. The senseless loss of life feels completely out of control. Whether victims are famous or unknown, all deserve our sorrow, our outrage, our care. Our tender hearts can only absorb so much.
Every single day there are thirty eight violent homicides. Thirty eight lives are ended by guns. Thirty eight families lose someone. Thirty eight tender hearted communities grieving.
Tenderness isn’t weak. It is human. It knows life is sacred, death should not be so common and love will never be silenced. It cries in the face of tragedy. And it fights for the sake of love.
If you are finding yourself raw, angry, weary, or tender, consider meeting those feelings with affection, curiosity or compassion. These emotions are signs of your dignity, messages from your body, invitations to notice what matters most to you.
Your anger protects what you value. Your sadness communicates loss. Your fear is cautioning danger. Your desire guides you toward satisfaction. And your excitement moves you toward what is pleasurable, reminding you to celebrate. Your emotions matter. They want your attention. Give them a shot. You just might find relief. (Holy Hurt, Hillary McBride)
Maybe this season we let our tender hearts lead us to the wisdom inside of us. Maybe we trust that our tenderness can be a guide. Maybe we look for the intuitive goodness just beyond what we can see.
Your responses feel right to me. Thank you for sharing them. You remind me of my tenderness and that we are better when we come together in our humanity. I am here honoring and welcoming yours.
