We are all in the same predicament.
We worry that we are not enough. That
heros are made of better men than us.
We’re all clinging to some lie. “You are
nothing. You’re insignificant. You will pass
away and no one will notice.”
I have held complete strangers in my arms.
Watched them weep and rock back and forth,
wondering if someone would do the same for me.
I think they would. I think we would all be surprised
by the kindness of supposed strangers. Mothers and
fathers. Sister and brothers. We all belong to each other.
“How do we get through it?”
With kindness. With grace. With forgiveness. And most of all,
we get through it with love.
Love unending. Love that you can reach out and touch.
The kind of love that surpasses all understanding.
I really meant it. Do you believe me?
The kind that shines in dark places. The kind that seeps into
every crack in every surface. Love unchanging. Love that doesn’t
simply comfort, but weeps alongside.
When you see someone drowning, you can shout directions from
the shore. Or you can wade into the muck, throw your arms around their
writhing body and try to save them.
I want to be a man that wades into the muck. And while it’s risky, while it
costs something, I think we all want that too. There’s no more room for
armchair activists. Too many have filled the sidelines.
There are no better men. No better wives. No better friends.
It’s us. Stop looking around. “But how do we get through it?”
We get through it with love.