It’s been a rough week.
Personally speaking , I’m not talking about anything that may be going on in the world.
The doctor’s don’t prepare you for the full extent of a procedure, if it’s successful then that’s all they care about – and it was. But it hurt. Like hell at first.
Nothing serious just long ignored; it was time to take care of it.
And a few days later, all is well – I’m getting stronger and healthier every day. And the pain is fading.
It’s left me feeling a little fragile. But that’s okay, I know I’ll be strong again.
I opened my email this morning and it caught my eye. A compelling subject line, another talk to catch later.
And that’s how I found myself scrambling eggs with tears rolling down my face.
And I wondered, why this?
Why would this push me over the edge?
And then it hit me. Like a ton of bricks.
It gets me every time.
The witnessing of authentic story. The pain, the anguish, the joy, the triumph of a real story.
It floors me. It moves me to tears. Then it moves me to action.
I think perhaps authentic story is one of the few things that moves anyone to action.
Here’s it is.
Shared with love and hopes for a gentler, kinder world.