Windbreak

Joshua Moppin, acting as a windbreak for his children.

Windbreak

It felt as if it had turned winter overnight.  The day before had been beautiful; an azure blue sky, a light breeze, with a temperature in the low 70’s.  Now the wind was coming from the north.  It was sort of stiff.  It was chilling for sure and standing on the cold cement of a residential driveway seemed to allow nature’s cold to climb into our feet, up our legs and then into the core of our chests where it was greeting the wind.  Joshua and I were feeling uncomfortable because of the weather.  Yet his eyes were pleading for another reason.

““It’s hard to get up every day, put a smile on my face and go to work when I’m struggling for my kids.”  He said.  “I’ve been spending the last few nights at the hospital because my daughter’s there and she needs me now, more than ever.”

His words joined in with the icy wind beating against my chest.

“I don’t know what’s happened!”  He continued.  “When my kids were little they were so joyful and fun to be with.  Now, as teenagers, they seem to be confused about their capabilities and future.”

We continued to talk.  There on that cold driveway, battling icy winds.  Nature’s blustering was a clear reminder that winter had arrived and the societal headwinds that Joshua is experiencing is blowing against all of us, as parents.  He, like lots of others, is working to protect the people he ushered into the world.  And, our conversation was acting as the windbreak Joshua needed in the moment.

I first learned of the importance of a windbreak as a child, while traveling by car over the windswept plains of Wyoming during the winter.  My parents pointed out the large brown horizontal-slat-fences that stood guard along I-80.  They told me of their two-fold purpose.  First, to slow the howling wind as it rushed ferociously across the land.  Second, to capture as much blowing snow as possible.  In short, their job is to help keep the road, where they stand, clearer, so travelers can continue forward more safely.  Still, there are times when the essential work they do isn’t enough and some people die.  Yet, when I drove that same freeway, east bound, about one year ago, fifty or so years later, those fences were still there, standing as sentinels, helping me pass through the teeth of a frightening winter storm.

While standing on the concrete looking in that same easterly direction, Joshua reminded me of those solitary sentinels.  Here’s what I saw as I marveled at his strength of purpose.

First, Joshua knows that even though he and his teenaged children are battling buffeting winds now, that won’t always be the case.  If he can shelter his loved ones from the very worst, perhaps they’ll have a chance to learn important lessons while still being able to live successful lives over time.

Second, he is continuing to model a way of living that will help show others the way toward success.  He can do this himself, independently.  But, there is no way for him for force others into finding and accepting the shelter of his demonstrated path.

Third, he knows there is only so much he can do.  The dreaded possibility that he may not be able to save everyone he holds dear will continue to worry him if the winds his loved-ones venture into become too violent.

Fourth, he firmly holds on to the knowledge that the only way to defeat violence is through strong, never failing love.  Nothing can stop him from demonstrating that love, no matter the strength of the winds he’s laboring to break.

Finally, Joshua now knows that he has at least one friend and ally who will stand with him. Because I told him I would during our time together.

As Joshua and I talked together It felt as if it had turned winter overnight.  The day before had been beautiful; an azure blue sky, a light breeze, with a temperature in the low 70’s.  Now the wind was coming from the north.  It was sort of stiff.  It was chilling for sure and standing on the cold cement of a residential driveway seemed to allow nature’s cold to climb into our feet, up our legs and then into the core of our chests where it was greeting the wind.  Joshua and I were feeling uncomfortable because of the weather.  Yet his eyes were showing the deepest kind of strength.

Joshua Moppin’s warm, boundless affection is acting as a windbreak for his children as they struggle to grow into his love.