A couple of days ago, after our meetings had finished for the day, I took a walk around the Swiss Village in which my company’s global headquarters are located. Along the way, I observed two young boys in two very different situations.
The first boy was standing in the middle of the river that flows through the village. He was slowly making his way downstream, fishing pole in hand, trying to catch fish. It reminded me of times spent aside the creek that ran in front of my childhood home when I was a child. Fishing in the wide area of the creek that formed a small pond was one of our favorite pastimes. Though I didn’t see him catch anything, I could tell even from over fifty yards away that he was having a great time.
I encountered the second boy a few minutes later on the bridge that crossed the river. He appeared to be about the same age as his fishing counterpart, but was tailing behind his mother and two younger sisters. He was dressed to play soccer, and was absolutely beside himself with grief over the fact that his playtime had been cut short by a storm that was headed our way. His face was all snotty and tear soaked from his disappointment at having to cut his game short. He was begging his mom to let him go back and play for just a little longer.
It was easy to relate to the second boy’s distress, because that same storm had caused the ballooning our group was supposed to be doing to be cancelled. I thought my chance to soar above the Swiss Alps in a hot air balloon had been dashed. Maturity may have prevented me from shedding tears and snot, I could empathize with his disappointment.
After that boy passed by, I stood once again watching down stream at the little fisherman. Thunder boomed in the distance, and I saw his shoulders slump. Apparently he had been taught that when thunder sounds, it is time to go inside. No more fishing, no more fun. Though disappointment did not bring out dramatic emotions in him as it had his soccer-playing counterpart, I’m sure his feelings were similar.
I thought of those boys this morning when I drew unconditional love as my spiritual principle of the day. Someone in each of those boys’ lives loves them enough to let them know that playing outside in a storm is dangerous enough to be forbidden; regardless of one’s reaction to it.
When practicing unconditional love, it is important to remember what those boys’ parents already know. That is that unconditional love is not all about rainbows and unicorns. It is not all about telling someone what they want to hear, or placating their every whim. Sometimes, unconditional love requires that we train others to get inside when a storm is approaching. Even if that love results in slumping shoulders or snotty tears.
In my earliest days of recovery, I experienced a lot of snot and tears. I knew that consequences would definitely follow if I continued using, but fought against that knowledge. Even as God was using my friends and family to help lead me to change, I resisted. “Come on, God. Can’t I play for just a little longer?” Thankfully, neither God nor the people in my life who were loving me unconditionally let me have my way. It was time to come in out of the storm.
I pray for the strength to love others unconditionally. Help me, God, to love others enough to tell them the truth, even if that truth is not what they want to hear. Remind me that those tears, snot, and slumping shoulders will someday be replaced by the confidence that comes from being loved unconditionally.
Have a remarkable day!
Daily Spiritual Principle - one addict's thoughts 