You have gotten to know Blog me. Blog me is bold and sarcastic. Blog me is silly and confident. Blog me says what it means and doesn’t apologize. Blog me is funny. While this is very much a part of Regular me, there is a part of Regular me that tends to get lost in the posting and publishing shuffle.
Despite my sarcastic and sometimes biting humor, I am sweet. Despite my brash jokes, I am gentle. Despite my confidence, I can be incredibly timid. Despite my harsh teasing, I feel deeply. I am – above anything else that I am – tender. It doesn’t show up on my blog but it often doesn’t show up in real life either.
I don’t like admitting my tenderness. It’s much easier to joke than it is to feel. It is much easier to tease than it is to empathize. It is much easier to be confident than to be broken. It’s much easier to be fun and carefree than it is to be the one whose heart breaks at the sight of another’s pain. It is not an easy task, to be tender hearted.
But I am. Oh but I am.
Sometimes I feel defective. I feel that my heart shouldn’t ache like it does. It’s not sadness. It isn’t darkness. It’s an ache. It’s a sigh. It’s a groan. I see the mess. I see the what-could-have-beens. I see the sadness. More than anything, I want to see it restored. I yearn to see it redeemed. I want to sit and rearrange all of the broken pieces until somehow they are formed into something beautiful. I want to fix it. I want to make it all better. I want to take the hurts of others away.
My heart weighs heavy when I think of all of the people in my life who are hurting. I take it on. I feel too deeply until the burdens of others become my own burdens. Their pain becomes my pain. Their tears become my tears. I am thankful for people who recognize this in me and ever so gently help nudge me into reality. They tell me that it is good and beautiful to feel. It is good to help. It is good to support. But I am not them. I am me. There is nothing wrong with me. But I am tender. And tenderness is beautiful.
It is not my job to fix. I can’t mend brokenness. I can’t heal wounds. I can’t ease any pain. I can’t restore that which has been destroyed. I can’t redeem anything. I can’t lift the burdens off of someone’s back.
But thankfully, I know Someone who can.