Tenderness found… sacred ground

I sit and watch the sick old man in bed. He cries out for his father.

Father! he cries.

I see the young man come into the room. The young man comes closer and asks, what’s the matter, what do you need? He treads gently upon sacred ground.

The young man speaks softly into the old man’s ear. Don’t worry, you’ll be alright. He strokes his cheek and hair. There now, that’s better. The old man falls fast asleep resting on sacred ground.

Please tenderness, stay.

I see the father kneeling next to his anguished son but the boy not sure why. I see the father fight the urge to be pushy and insist and not wait in silence for the tenderness.

Know this, the father’s heart tells him: you kneel on sacred ground.

A heart is bleeding. So. Just. Wait. And so the father waits, until…

Tenderness opens the heart… and the outpouring begins…

It’s just everything’s so weird dad, and you put too much pressure on me, and my brothers fight too much, and they’re sometimes mean to mom, and I can’t sleep good, and this world is just too crazy and scary now for this young boy trying to grow up to understand.

And the father hugs the boy and strokes his cheek and hair and says I’m so sorry son, you are very much loved my son. Don’t worry, we’ll be alright.

And tenderness pours out onto sacred ground soaked by the tears of the father and the son—a sprouting of seed planted long long ago.

To walk on sacred ground, sandals must come off. Barefoot. The softest steps ever or even on your knees. The hurting heart cries out for this tenderness. Holy earth where man meets God.

If you want to enter my hurting heart, just wait, ’cause it’s not so easy right now.

And when it’s time, your barefoot tenderness can enter my sacred ground.

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