Disconcerting

His eyes, deep blue like a thunderstorm sky, glittered with lightning, hard, daring me to speak what I must say. Behind them, I saw the child-eyes, the ones that were confused and afraid. But not alone. Never alone.

So the words started flowing. Awkward. Jerking. Unsure on this tightrope. So dangerous. First the pole steadies. Then the foot becomes more sure, and then the heart is in it, and the hesitation goes down. Balance is restored, at least now while you are standing still.

This is precious to me, this time. So crucial, so important, so very, very precious. It's all part of the package. Earlier on this job was easier. The consequences of mistakes back then were not quite so dire, so long lasting; a bandage and a kiss made the world right again. Not so now. Lives can be seared, cut, never put back without scars, or they can be raised to a new level, new joy, fulfillment. It is what makes the act so precarious, and the need for something steady and dependable—a balancing rod and a focal point—all the more important. These are the years without a net. The fall can be long, crippling, even death-dealing. Or you can obey the rules, take it slowly and steadily. Have faith in what you know is right. Never doubt until you put your foot safely on solid ground and you win. You're safely through, integrity intact, feeling joyful, proud, content.

How glad I am to see the glitter eyes, the darting eyes, the calming eyes, the eyes I recognize. I love you. And how I pray you make the wiser choice. I can't make it for you, but I can be your balancing rod, your faith your focal point.