I want to tell you the story of a woman. A woman who puts others well before she puts herself. She hasn’t quite mastered the art of selfishness. Though I am not even sure she wants to. Every morning when her eyes open she prepares her heart for the day. A heart that is kind and full of empathy.
She talks to more than 100 people a day. She always smiles and usually manages to add in a meaningful “How are you?” Not the kind where you don’t want an answer. The kind that comes with it eyes that shine a little brighter because she actually expects an answer. When she says, “I hope you have a good day” she is one of that actual rare souls who actually mean it.
But that heart, it beats mostly for her people, her selected few. She does what most mothers do. She gets her kids ready. She feeds them. She pushes them out the door and does their laundry. She gives them pep talks and long talks and the kinda talks that straighten them out. She does most of that without thank yous or the acknowledgement that one should have in those instances.
She loves her husband when it isn’t always easy, because it is easy when you truly love and that she does. She looks forward to the end of the night in his arms, or that weekend away or even just the way she waits for him to jab her math skills. The best though is when she has a fit of giggles about to make her bladder burst when he chides her about that crazy tree in the backyard that is growing all the green stuff…ya know…money.
She loves and she loves hard. She looks at the people in her life and she hopes and prays that they know what they actually mean to her and she vows to say it more. She wishes life could sometimes feel a little easier because sometimes the battles all seem like a little too much. But she has a warrior spirit and continues to fight on even though most of the time she rarely knows who or what she is actually fighting for because it all comes down to one thing….she fights for love.
She does wonder if she can handle more as she realizes if it is not one thing, it is another. And so we are clear there is always another. Sometimes when she is convinced her limit has been reached, she digs a little deeper and somehow finds a way. Because somehow one thing always becomes another and the another become one thing. And there is no option. Keep going she tells herself. It isn’t even optional.
When she hurts because the people she loves don’t return it she begins to wonder if she is worthy. A worthiness she truly understands is likely not found in THAT place, but instead inside her. Her kindness, her smile, and her quest to love. But tell her that.
But if you are wondering…she knows you left her text message read and not responded. A lot. She also knows what that means. She isn’t as important to you as you are to her. She also noticed that you shut her out from your life. Or that she bought you that gift and invited you to a meal in kindness, and not because you did not hurt her. She did all of that because that is who she is. Kind. Forgiving. Strong in the face of rejection. But so you know she has feelings and you hurt them and yet she would still be there for you because that is authentically who she is when she wakes up in the morning and goes to bed at night. And you know that which is I am guessing why you did that so easily.
She once heard a story, no several stories of more heartbreak and unfairness in the world than any one person should have to endure. But people tell her things because of that heart. The empathic one. Hearing once that empathy has pathetic in it or being told that she is too sensitive. She took it personal, but still she offers a kleenex, a warm hug, and some gentle advice that one longs to hear. Her goal to conquer the loneliness that comes with feeling like you are the only one to feel loneliness. If only just for a moment she hopes to make those around her know the world is a good and safe place and that with her in it the world does care even when it feels like it does not.
But once no one is looking, or sometimes in her car alone or if she is lucky in a moment stolen away in her house alone. She can physically feel her heart break. She falls to her knees in hopes the weight that she carries can unload for just a minute. A break from the moment. A break from being the one who cares too much. Instead it manifests in tears, and a prayer that defeat isn’t near though it feels so. She grows angry and weary and wonders if there is more that she can possibly handle.
Then she stands up, wipes her tears and leaves that place. She puts on her face. She puts on her smile and she moves on. It isn’t that her life is so hard. It is that LIFE is so hard. Others lives, her own life, and LIFE. It is all so hard but so worth it.
But sometimes…I cry. – MR