a blessing for friends who hold us up
God, you called me to love
but people are inherently risky.
Telling my story, being known, asking for help,
complaining again about
the thing I worry might sound cliché by now. Shouldn’t I be over it already?
But something is happening when
I am known.
I am becoming stronger somehow.
I am reminded of the pillars
I’ve seen
holding up cathedrals.
Flying buttresses, engineered to provide support for a fragile wall,
allowing them to be built taller, more stunning, more covered with ornaments
or filled with stained glass,
letting all the colorful light dance in.
The walls would collapse without them there, but strengthened, they create
something beautiful.
God, when I am no longer quite so tall and strong, give me those who hold me up
and remind me of who I am and that I’m loved.
Yes, I’ll get back up again
today.
Yes, I’ll get those kids cereal
and help my parents with an errand.
Yes, I’ll go to work or come up with something better to do with retirement
hours.
I will try again.
I know I will,
because someone else’s absurd faith in me
is fortifying
So, blessed are our flying
buttresses.
when everything seems ready
to come apart, allowing us to face today—
not because we’re doing it alone—
but precisely because we aren’t.
