In The Wizard of Oz Dorothy comes across a man so dry and stiff that he can barely ask for the oil he needs. Nevermind that he's completely hollow, even lacking a heart.
Shiny on the outside; empty within.
He turns out to be the second of her most loyal companions. Through a series of misadventures it becomes obvious that the reason the Tin man is perpetually dry and stiff is that he is perpetually heartbroken. He cries himself stiff. If it weren't for his fragile heart, which he claims he doesn't have, he would never get into such a mess.
In the end, the wizard graciously gives him a new one.
Shiny on the outside; empty within.
He turns out to be the second of her most loyal companions. Through a series of misadventures it becomes obvious that the reason the Tin man is perpetually dry and stiff is that he is perpetually heartbroken. He cries himself stiff. If it weren't for his fragile heart, which he claims he doesn't have, he would never get into such a mess.
In the end, the wizard graciously gives him a new one.
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This week my defining emotion has been hollowness. Empty. You would never know it. I look healthy. There's nothing wrong with my body, but look again, tap me, there's nothing inside.
This is my tin man week.
The truth is I have so much to rejoice in (opportunities with the staff, encouragement from friends, advancement in language learning, improvement in my students, hilarity from my boss...) just no ability to do it. It's like some part of me gave up. Like all the small things that I count as triumphs weren't enough, like the never ending stream of blessing that has been promised to me missed the cup and spilled all over the floor instead. It's like all the hurt, all the lostness, all the darkness, all the confusion, all the inability, and all the smallness of every moment of daily life here suddenly rose up to greet me... and I cried myself stiff and dry and am no longer able to ask for the oil I need.
But you're going to ask for me right?
Because truly there's too much to do, too many chances for the kingdom to break through, too much need, too many opportunities to let light and love come rushing through the door for me to stand stiff in a corner with my back to it all pleading through dried up lips for oil. Where is that fragile heart of mine?
This week I'm the tin man... but I know what it is to be the scarecrow and the cowardly lion too... and it's not too rare that I find myself as Dorothy wishing for some magic ruby slippers.
This week my defining emotion has been hollowness. Empty. You would never know it. I look healthy. There's nothing wrong with my body, but look again, tap me, there's nothing inside.
This is my tin man week.
The truth is I have so much to rejoice in (opportunities with the staff, encouragement from friends, advancement in language learning, improvement in my students, hilarity from my boss...) just no ability to do it. It's like some part of me gave up. Like all the small things that I count as triumphs weren't enough, like the never ending stream of blessing that has been promised to me missed the cup and spilled all over the floor instead. It's like all the hurt, all the lostness, all the darkness, all the confusion, all the inability, and all the smallness of every moment of daily life here suddenly rose up to greet me... and I cried myself stiff and dry and am no longer able to ask for the oil I need.
But you're going to ask for me right?
Because truly there's too much to do, too many chances for the kingdom to break through, too much need, too many opportunities to let light and love come rushing through the door for me to stand stiff in a corner with my back to it all pleading through dried up lips for oil. Where is that fragile heart of mine?
This week I'm the tin man... but I know what it is to be the scarecrow and the cowardly lion too... and it's not too rare that I find myself as Dorothy wishing for some magic ruby slippers.
