Playing with Fire...

We all have basic human instincts. They tell us when to sleep and eat. They warn us if something is too hot to touch, too dangerous to be around, or too risky to take a chance. Still, here lately I'm finding that I'm having more basic instincts than ever. Yet, they aren't to save myself from some irreparable harm or damage. Instead, I find myself longing to rescue people I care for.

When I hear the word, "rescue" I automatically think of firefighters and paramedics. However, we can each be rescue workers in our own right. Sometimes my mother rescues me from a bad day by reassuring me that things will turn out for the better. But what happens when you simply can't rescue those that you care about? Do we will them be-- let them make their own mistakes-- let them get hurt?

It hurts to watch someone go down a path, with high hopes, knowing that it probably won't end well. In fact, I've seen it many times. All the instincts in my body scream at me to warn them. I want to jump up and caution them to the dangers ahead. But it's not my place to. In truth, I can't stop someone from getting their heart broken. In truth, I can't make someone start to hold themselves accountable for their actions. In truth, my words will never be persuasive enough to stir someone away from a course of action they are set on taking.

I guess I can just watch from afar. Watch-- and hope that the fire doesn't burn them too bad. Hope that their burns will teach them lessons. Who knows? Friends have probably had to sit back and watch as I've taken the darker path. Darker paths might lead to dark outcomes. Still, I'd like to believe that somewhere in the dark there is light.

Like a victim trapped in a burning building, I hope the light of the rescuer finds you in time. I hope they can cleanse your wounds and make you whole again. And more importantly, I hope you can learn from it all. Playing with fire is dangerous-- but keeping it so close to your heart can be deadly.