One of the things I love about God and his family is how He provides a means for all of his children to be cared for by putting different passions and heartaches inside each of us.
I just finished reading The Help, way after everyone else, so I pretty much knew what the book is about before I picked it up. But I had no idea what would actually make me cry.
Obviously, we are supposed to commiserate with the maids. And I do. It is so hard to believe that this treatment went on - even goes on today - but it did. And, I thank God for the people He has called to fight the battles of racism, mistreatment in the workplace, and women's rights all over the world. But they did not make me cry.
Most people would not feel any sort of tenderness towards the employers in the book, but I did. How sad. To live your life cow-towing to the popular girl, trying to live up to unspoken standards, always living in fear of losing love, not even aware that you are empty and not experiencing any love at all. To have no idea of your real value, and therefore be unable to treasure the value in others. Women who really didn't grasp the Father's love, or understand what it could be like to be friends with Him. In general, I believe God has called me to walk beside women, and help unlock this relationship with them. During this early season of child-raising, however, I know he has called me to lay that aside and focus on the souls of our babies. So they, also, did not make me cry.
Who made me cry? Mae Mobley.
I know I was supposed to be happy for her Aibee when she was being set free to find out who she could be in the wake of the Civil Rights Movement, but all I could think about was how she was being left alone in a loveless home. Despised. Un-hugged. Ignored. I didn't just cry, I sobbed.
