When I was little, I cried if anyone looked at me cross-eyed. I was scared of men with beards. And if someone laughed at me, I swear it scarred me for life. Since it was easy to make me cry, I was an easy target. Let’s be honest…I was probably super annoying.
I grew out of my fear of facial hair. Crossed eyes aren’t my undoing. And I can laugh at myself fairly often. But I never grew out of being really sensitive. And I have to be aware and careful of those sensitivities.
I (generally) can’t watch the news and will mostly stick to reading the headlines, if that. I avoid certain types of movies and TV shows and books. In fact, Sarah will often tell me about a new show she is watching or book she is reading, stop mid-sentence, and tell me I’m not allowed to watch or read whatever she’s talking about. Even Beezus will talk about something and say “Yeah, Mom…you can’t read/watch that.”
They are my parental-guidance-suggested in real life form.
There have been times, obviously, that I’ve let my guard down. I’ve watched movies that still haunt me. Or books that have burned images in my brain that I wish weren’t there. There are news stories that still wrench all of my guts.
I mean, yeah…I’m probably still really, super annoying.
And there are many times when I feel like a complete and total wimp.
I feel like my sensitivities are weaknesses.
Like I am weak.
But every once in a while, I have moments where I can recognize that God built me this way for a reason. When I can get past my frustrations of being a total weenie, I see the softness for what it is. I am hard-wired to be soft. And to feel.
Honestly, I was hoping that writing this out would maybe make me feel better. That I could recognize the lessons I’ve learned from being so open and so soft-hearted. Like maybe I could remember that soft doesn’t necessarily mean weak. And that maybe having a soft heart allows the love to get out easier.
But instead, I’m not even sure if I want to post this. I’m annoyed and worry that *I’m* annoying. And I haven’t even gotten to the point of what I wanted to say.
Ridiculous AND annoying.
Except for maybe I am the one who is missing the point. And maybe I’m not learning the lessons that I need to be learning. And that when my heart is breaking for friends or I’m sick with worry for another…that maybe I need to take this soft heart that I have and apply it to my damn self. Or maybe it’s a reminder to all of us to take care of ourselves and our health and well-being. Or that we all remember that life is short and to love our people.
I don’t know what I’m meant to or what I should say. Except that I’m truly sorry if you are hurting or sad or worrying or angry. And if there is a prayer or good thought or giant internet hug, I’m sending all that I have to you.
And maybe that’s my answer. That there is no point.
Just a whole lotta love headed your way.
Because that’s just how it’s supposed to be.
