Bull Shit vs. Holy Spirit

Today my mom went up the stairs on her brand new stairlift. As she went up singing cheerfully, I watched my little brother keel over in agony, crying silently those “this ain’t fair” tears. I rubbed his back and told him it would be ok, even though I knew it wouldn’t, but I didn’t have anything else to say.

Normally, I’d walk away. Those moments are awkward for me, but today I grabbed him up and wrapped my arms around him and said some shit like:

“You’ve gotta be strong for mommy. You can’t let her see you cry. We have to keep her spirits up and look at the bigger picture. It’s not about us, but about what God needs. Think about all the people who have been blessed because of her illness. Look at all the positive ways it has changed relationships in our house, your maturity. God is using her to bless and grow others spiritually and we should be grateful and honored that He chose OUR mom to perform such an assignment for Him. Look how special mom is to God. However this turns out, He decided to use her for His glory and that’s bigger than us.”

He went for it. He shook his head a lot, got up from my chest, wiped his face and smiled as I kissed him on the cheek and I thought to myself, “Where the hell did that come from? That was the biggest load of bull shit I’ve ever spoken.” I’ve never once had that thought honestly. It came out of the clear blue sky. But it seemed to be what my brother needed to hear. He went to bed feeling better, and I lay here feeling worse knowing I don’t believe in my own words. I’m not for certain whether I’m more excellent than I thought at bull shit or whether the Holy Spirit used me to comfort him. I hope it was the latter, and I hope one day, I’m able to take heed to my own words of comfort.


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