Perspective...
It's difficult to articulate a fairly profound day.
Today I sat in an elementary classroom, surrounded by children's awkward artwork, and spoke endlessly to a very young man, a very, very young man selling and using more drugs than most of the adults I've ever dealt with. He's 13. He looked me right in the eye and fell apart. I left him with a promise to come back, and my head spinning.
I met a desperate fifteen year old with no one to talk to. He asked his teacher if he could help him get in touch with "The Oh Sh!t Guy," and there I happened to be, gathering my wits in a quiet office in his school. Nice timing, and an odd recognition and awareness on his teachers behalf...very odd. Desperate doesn't begin to define what this young man was feeling, and hope was what I tried to plant so that he might harvest it later. That hour took every ounce of energy I had. As it typically is, that wasn't the end of it all.
My cell phone exploded all afternoon with confusing text and disheartening message, until finally it rang with a sobbing girl who three years ago found a special spot in my head and heart. My relationship to humanity stressed and strained, I talked her home, met with Mom, and walked away with the idea that everything will be something akin to okay until I can find them both with a new day to carve things out of tomorrow, and I limped home.
I try to remind myself every night when I drive home that what is important in life is life...not the results, not how the story ends, but the story itself. Today I wrote fifty separate stories, not one with an ending I'll ever know. Now it's time to let my wife and daughter pull me from those pages and back into my own story. It's that one that will help me sleep.
Today I sat in an elementary classroom, surrounded by children's awkward artwork, and spoke endlessly to a very young man, a very, very young man selling and using more drugs than most of the adults I've ever dealt with. He's 13. He looked me right in the eye and fell apart. I left him with a promise to come back, and my head spinning.
I met a desperate fifteen year old with no one to talk to. He asked his teacher if he could help him get in touch with "The Oh Sh!t Guy," and there I happened to be, gathering my wits in a quiet office in his school. Nice timing, and an odd recognition and awareness on his teachers behalf...very odd. Desperate doesn't begin to define what this young man was feeling, and hope was what I tried to plant so that he might harvest it later. That hour took every ounce of energy I had. As it typically is, that wasn't the end of it all.
My cell phone exploded all afternoon with confusing text and disheartening message, until finally it rang with a sobbing girl who three years ago found a special spot in my head and heart. My relationship to humanity stressed and strained, I talked her home, met with Mom, and walked away with the idea that everything will be something akin to okay until I can find them both with a new day to carve things out of tomorrow, and I limped home.
I try to remind myself every night when I drive home that what is important in life is life...not the results, not how the story ends, but the story itself. Today I wrote fifty separate stories, not one with an ending I'll ever know. Now it's time to let my wife and daughter pull me from those pages and back into my own story. It's that one that will help me sleep.
posted by Unknown at
8:12 PM
2 Comments:
You're a pretty impressive dude.
Am I a super softy?? I cry every time I read your posts like this. Partly because it breaks my heart to read about the tough times these young souls go through, but also because it makes me so happy to see how much of positive and powerful impact you make in the lives of so many. I know it can be hard, but somehow you manage it all and still put on a smile at the end of the day ♥
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home