It's late. I probably shouldn't be up right now cause I plan on being up somewhat early tomorrow. But there's a lot of things in life that "shouldn't be". This is (by far) not the worst among them.
There's something on my heart. I'll try to get it formed into a blog post quickly for the sake of time.
It's something I've never thought of blogging about; it has (thus far) been something I kept sort of hidden and pondered in my heart. But for some reason, it's nagging at me to be written down, to be shared. Almost as if I have realized that this thing deserves to have a work of literary art in it's honor as a tribute to what it means to me. So I will make one for it.
This thing is a truth. A story, sort of. A very short story. My parents have told it to me (or reminded me more or less) a few times over the course of my life but it's one of those things that have expansive impact even though you've had minimal encounters with it.
The story is about when I was a baby. I think I was only some small number of days old and had only been home a few of those days. I was laying on a blanket and one (or both) of my parents were just sitting there, watching me. (It is ok to do that sort of thing to people sometimes. Seriously.)
Either they had both been watching me or once one of them started crying, the other sat down next to them and started to cry for the same reason- my Pain. For everything that would make me cry. For all the times I would hurt, no matter the reason. Even if it was because of them. Even if it was because of myself. Even if it was because of God.
(From my understanding of what happened, this wasn't just my-eyes-are-a-little-damp kind of crying but UGLY crying. This increases the story's value in my eyes.)
Sometimes when I've been in pain, I've thought back to that day (even though the recollection that I have of it isn't my own). I remember once in particular that I was crying and thought, "One day, 19 years and so many days ago, my parents wept with me for this." No person can ever take away the fact that they have shed tears for my tears and that makes every pain just a teeny tiny bit less horrible. And my heart holds that fact dear.
There's something on my heart. I'll try to get it formed into a blog post quickly for the sake of time.
It's something I've never thought of blogging about; it has (thus far) been something I kept sort of hidden and pondered in my heart. But for some reason, it's nagging at me to be written down, to be shared. Almost as if I have realized that this thing deserves to have a work of literary art in it's honor as a tribute to what it means to me. So I will make one for it.
This thing is a truth. A story, sort of. A very short story. My parents have told it to me (or reminded me more or less) a few times over the course of my life but it's one of those things that have expansive impact even though you've had minimal encounters with it.
The story is about when I was a baby. I think I was only some small number of days old and had only been home a few of those days. I was laying on a blanket and one (or both) of my parents were just sitting there, watching me. (It is ok to do that sort of thing to people sometimes. Seriously.)
Either they had both been watching me or once one of them started crying, the other sat down next to them and started to cry for the same reason- my Pain. For everything that would make me cry. For all the times I would hurt, no matter the reason. Even if it was because of them. Even if it was because of myself. Even if it was because of God.
(From my understanding of what happened, this wasn't just my-eyes-are-a-little-damp kind of crying but UGLY crying. This increases the story's value in my eyes.)
Sometimes when I've been in pain, I've thought back to that day (even though the recollection that I have of it isn't my own). I remember once in particular that I was crying and thought, "One day, 19 years and so many days ago, my parents wept with me for this." No person can ever take away the fact that they have shed tears for my tears and that makes every pain just a teeny tiny bit less horrible. And my heart holds that fact dear.