The Boy Who Cried, "Love Me!"
Written By Angeline M Duran Santiago
I didn't see it before.
I never paid it much attention.
We have been trained to believe that silence, most likely, means everything is alright. We've been trained to see quietness as meaning everything is fine.
So, I never saw it.
I heard him laugh. I saw him dance. I enjoyed my time in his presence watching him tell a story, do his thing as most kids his age do.
But, I missed it. I missed the clues and the signs that were silent whispers saying, "Look at me.....too."
Somewhere, lost on the axis of this Earth, spinning away, his voice went unheard. The moments he felt ignored, never seen, and unimportant became more real.
The enemy of the souls of men, always busy roaming the Earth to and fro, found the boy weeping. Rubbing his hands and with a smirk on his mouth, he cleared his venomous filled throat and began to speak the soothing words of despair, discouragement and lies into the boys atmosphere. The lullabies he heard before bedtime now became confirmations that he was second, third, and last, he was invisible, he was a burden, uncared for, and unloved.
I didn't see it. I didn't imagine it.
I saw the boy grow into manhood, always broken, always torn and angry and no matter how much I prayed, I couldn't understand what was wrong or how things had become so impossible.
"Pray." was the only advice given.
"Pray." was the only answer.
But, he was still hurting. He spewed hatred, was easy to speak his mind and shout all the venomous seeds planted so long ago.
Long ago. Yes, long ago the seeds of lies, of betrayal and hurt were deeply planted and they grew, deeply rooted, heavily watered by his tears, every time he felt unloved, every time he felt left out, and as if no one cared.
Wait, but I never saw those seeds. I never saw them begin to sprout. I never knew they were there, nestled in his heart, in his spirit, wrapping themselves with thorns around his thoughts, around his emotions and his life.
He has grown before me and today I saw it. I saw the boy crying out, "Love me!" I heard the boy crying out, "Love me!" I saw the tears that haven't come forth in a long time, run out towards me to grab my face and make me see, make me hear, "Love me!"
But, I have never once stopped loving the boy.
I never once imagined what life would be like without loving him or having a life without him. And that is where all the fault lies, that I couldn't see because I thought it was all perfect.
The boy ran from the painful past, hidden in his childhood room, and ran with all his might into the present. The boy, now man, still cried out, "Love me! Will you love me? Can you love me? Am I lovable? If only by you, Do you....love me?"
Lord, how do I make him see that he has always been my heart, my sun, my moon, and my life? How do I remove the hurt I never saw there and allow the joy that you have for him to grow, to develop, to be planted in place of all these lies?
Lord, Satan has no hold on this boy. As I write these words, I go into the past and I speak against every seed whispered into the soil of this boy's heart. I go into the past and I dig up, dig out, rip away, from the very root, every word spoken to break him, to hurt him, to make him think I never cared, I never loved, or I never saw....him.
I speak healing over his spirit. I speak healing over his heart. I speak your love to rain over the land of his emotions, his memories, and help him see that he is loved, that I love him.
The sound of a storm outside was not a coming storm, only the enemy running away, angry, violently cursing the moment his lies, his seeds of anger and hatred, and his confusing conversations where ripped away and thrown into the night.
"Do not return. The boy belongs to God, to the King of Kings, to the Savior of his soul. You cannot hold on to the boy!"
Night time came, went and brought forth morning.
Tears, a mother's tears, may endure for the night, oh, but the promise of God's word, that joy, JOY, unspeakable JOY comes in the morning.
A few days went by.
The boy had spent the past few days stomping around the house, angry, like a lion looking whom to attack. The boy, the man, huffed and puffed. The boy, cried out, "Love me!"
I asked the boy how his night had been and the boy began to spill out millions of words sharing what had happened. Then, the boy began to show me his latest dance step and rolled out his arms before me, and he asked me to dance. Taking hold of my hands, he asked me to dance with him, to show him if he was doing it right, to dance if for a moment, to see if what he had been shown was the right step.
An unseen chorus from heaven played their violins to the music inside the boy's head. They listened to the humming of his healing heart and accompanied him with their song.
"Dance with me, Mom."
And they danced to music that was not there. They danced to the song of healing, of forgiveness, of restoration and reconciliation.
The music of heaven bursting through closed windows, singing peace, singing joy, and singing, "All things are made new!"
The boy cried, "LOVE ME!"
And I responded, "I will, I do, forever and ever, I love you, my son."
I don't know if these words mean anything to you. To me, they are the moments in my life where I have seen the Lord at work in my home. May the music of heaven and the power of God's Love bring restoration and healing into your home. No matter what has gone wrong, God can and will make it right. I pray the Lord blesses you and your family today and always.
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