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 story.

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.

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