My teenage daughter has experienced her first broken heart. The subject of her devotion is tall and thin, strong, with big brown eyes. In her eyes, he is perfection and they have been inseparable for the last year. But he is leaving in a few months and the thought of being separated is more than she can bear. On a recent beach walk, the tears flowed freely. We took seats side-by-side in the dry sand and let them flow for a long, long....long time. Until she was empty. This past Sunday, Dr. Alan Arnold preached from Luke about the Good Samaritan. Sometimes we do need to pick up our brother or sister, bind their wounds, take them in, feed them, clothe them. But other times, like this, there was not a single thing I could do fix it or stop her pain. All I could do was sit beside her - a silent partner in her grief. My hand may have felt good on her back . And I am living proof that we survive the end of our first love. And sometimes that is enough.
In addition to the big beautiful brown eyes, her first love also has a mane, and a tail, and four hooves. He's my kind a guy! But one day, her love will be of the human species. And it may, no, WILL, hurt worse. I still won't be able to fix it. But again, I will sit beside her as she grieves once again and remind her that she'll survive losing this love too.
Post written by Suzanne Bates Mueller