I just cried in my car for 30 minutes.
Partially because I am exhausted and haven't slept well recently.
Mostly because I sat outside two of my favorite humans houses and listened to them debrief about what's been on their hearts lately.
It sounds simple and something I would do pretty often actually... and it is, in a way.
But today was hard.
This month has been hard.
When I thought I didn't have anything left in me, they gave me the opportunity to listen and respond.
Just like someone did for me a decade ago and every day since.
To just take a deep breath and acknowledge some parts of this life overwhelm us.
Parts of this life make us want to never go home, because the definition of home has changed.
We get excited that opportunities come our way or our regularly scheduled program is mixed up for something new and vibrant.
This life requires blood, sweat, tears, and really uncomfortable scenarios, because those things make us who we hope to be one day.
No one ever said working out and ripping muscles would be fun.
But we do it so they can stretch and grow and build up to become stronger.
I'm here to tell you our muscles have been stretched.
Our eyes are tired.
Our hearts have found a home in each other because the home we've known is foreign.
But I refuse to give up.
Our stories have come to this place for a reason.
No one in this family ever came and stayed this long because it was easy.
As a matter of fact, many leave because it is not.
They have reached a spot I know very well.
I want to hold my breath for them or lead them the way or close my eyes till it's over.
But I cannot.
They didn't do it for me back then, I won't do it for them now.
I will show up. Listen. Pray.
Respond occasionally.
And hope.
Those who sit, staring directly at a torn muscle, sharing the highs and lows of life, breathing cold air that somehow reminds them of the fire in their chest for something bigger.
That is why I am alive.
That is why I have them, and him, and her, and those people to thank.
Because I was once in that spot.
Hoping they would see me one day.
Wondering if this home could last.
Wondering if I could save mine.
