We are at family counseling, and Eden and I are coloring while we discuss the events of the week: Sage’s mysterious broken foot, Jude’s public meltdown that ended in an altercation between myself and a security guard (and how I won said altercation, decisively). Typical Hill week.
Wendy the Counselor looks over at Eden and asks him about his picture. Eden has drawn a man being swept away by a giant wave. A pair of swim trunks are falling away from him, there is lightening and thunder and a dead fish.
“Who is this?” Wendy asks, and Eden tells her it is Tim. “He is sad because he lost his wife,” Eden tells her. “but he will be okay when he gets to shore.”
Don and I look at each other. Tim has spent countless hours with our family since his divorce, just being, just healing, but we have never discussed his divorce in front of Eden. I am struck that Eden sees Tim as fragile, and perceives his wounds, and believes that Tim will be okay.
Wendy asks me about my picture. I have been absentmindedly drawing a boat, with happy stick people and a sail and some sunshine. Tim is a stick figure in the boat along with us and Grandma, and we are on top of the water. Eden looks at me and says that we should give both pictures to Tim, and that my picture is the sequel, because Tim is with us now, and he is happy.
I am glad that my son is okay with Tim’s pain, because we are, and that Eden can witness someone who is hurting move forward. We don’t ever have to pretend that it doesn’t hurt, and healing is what happens when you trust the ones that love you, and the One who loves you. Tim is gentle and brave, and has put one foot in front of the other, not hating, not bitter, just walking with open hands. He is welcome on our silly boat with the lopsided sail, and I know we will all be okay once we get to shore.
