Love Is A Shape

He was the boy whose eyes were downcast more often than not.  He was the boy who thought he had to be the man because there wasn't another one around.  He was the child who didn't have any friends, the boy with ADD, the boy who always felt like he wasn't good enough, that he was somehow different than everyone else, that he didn't have a hope or a prayer. 


But after a time he came to believe that he was good enough to get in the water and try it out just like everybody else.

 

He's not at that age yet where he doesn't care who's looking....

But he is at the age that he knows he wants to do it anyway.  So he got into the water and professed to everyone standing around just what he believes in, that anything is possible if you'd just take the time to wade in a little water, and that it doesn't matter about the shape of your muscles, or size of your chest, or anything else on the outside.  All that matters is that the size of your spirit is not measured by anyone else but Almighty God.

You see, I've messed up more times than I can count.  But on this day, all of my mistakes were washed away, just like his were.  My broken gifts to him were glued back together. 

We all put things together and just try to make them work.  We put in our resources, and our time, and our efforts, and they just aren't enough to do it justice.  But the glue of God's water is eternal.

So we accept the brokenness, because it hopes for greatness.  We accept the attempts, because ours are no better.  Even when we can plainly see where it has been broken, we can also see what a person tried to give...

 We take a long, hard look and find out that the shape of giving hands is love...even when all we have left to give is brokenness.



All Photos by: Mae Grace Eatmon, Eatmon Photography,

except "Heart" photo by:  LK