Friday, May 16, 2014
He was so tired.
I was so tired.
But his heart was heavy and as we whispered in the room he shares with his brother and his sister, I could feel the weight of his 9-year old pain. We swam in the tension while the ceiling fan whirred. These moments always feel big with him, because his heart understands things well past the borders of his age. These struggles catch him off guard, before he's really ready to grasp them. Before he should have to.
He holds the ends of friendship, responsibility, loyalty and simple kindness in his hands and tries his best to tie them into one clean bow.
His instincts say to run toward justice even if it means he'll pay a debt that isn't his. He cannot understand why others don't think and feel the way he does.
"But why is the world like this? I just wish it would be different."
This one is my part-time worrier. He likes stability and consistency. I know he's worried about the school year coming to an end. 3rd grade was so good to him.
He borrows trouble between yawns and his words slow.
I whisper back all the same things you've whispered to your children.
I tell him the truth again - that all I want is for him to love the people around him well, and try his best to be a good learner.
Focus on those two things, and nothing else matters.
My latest obsession, one of my favorite finds in all of history, is Humans of New York.
On Instagram, it's humansofny, which I read as "human sofny". Always.
Their posts are my hands-down favorites. The author so brilliantly captures each individual. I'm amazed by his ability to distill each human down to one line that explains exactly what I wanted to know, even if I didn't realize it at first glance. I'm amazed by the way he inspires them to spill their guts. I applaud his compassion that filters through each pixel and line. Every time I think, This is the Kingdom of Heaven. This is it, right here.
I always walk away with the essence of a real person seared into my heart.
Often, they make me smile.
Today, this post wrecked me.
I can't seem to shrug it off. I keep carrying it around, and it's painful.
Now the day is almost done, and I shouldn't be surprised by the way these threads make twine.
I wish we could all offer the benefit of the doubt to the rest of the world. I wish we could lay down our faulty ideas about who matters more or what matters most. I wish we could find the best in every single human.
I wish I could go back in time and fix that 10-year-old's birthday.
It truly seems like it would have changed the trajectory of his life.
I wish I could believe it's not too late for him.
I wish we could all stop looking to the horizon for beauty and find it near us, all around us, profoundly close to us in the hearts and faces we meet each day.
I wish my heart would never stop softening, never tire of breaking, never quit believing for one second that every human matters.
All we need is more love.
The good news? We grow it the same way we grow peas and peppers.
We grow it by planting it.
There's enough to go around, but it has to start with us.
Sevenly. This week's charity is To Write Love On Her Arms, an organization dedicated to presenting hope and finding help for people struggling with depression, addiction, self-injury and suicide. TWLOHA exists to encourage, inform, inspire and also to invest directly into treatment and recovery. With the purchase of any shirt this week, $7 is donated to TWLOHA.