I don’t claim to know many things for sure. Life is too subjective for me to reserve judgment or claim an absolute “knowing” about anything, really. But I am confident in this: I believe, without hesitation, that we are more similar than we are different.
I see this in the lessons my friends have taught me over the past several months. We have all been wounded. We have all suffered deep hurt, suffering, and loss. We have all been challenged, set back, risen, and continue to walk on- imperfect and worn as we are.
I know that our painful moments are the common denominator among us. If you reduce us to who we are at our most basic levels, we are all just an amalgam of conviction, hope, pain, joy and fear. We are just flesh and bone even when we dress it all up on the outside.
What if everyone you knew had a story like mine? A story of pain and survival, hopelessness and triumph. Would you see them differently? Would their suffering pull on the pieces of your heart that carries hurt as well?
To that question I must answer that my story is everyone’s story. I am made of the same things you are, the same bucket of broken as you, your neighbor, your enemy.
We have all survived to live this day. We all exist for a purpose. I have glimpses of why I am still here. My purpose has been revealed to me in tiny pieces of a puzzle I am so eager to put together. I am not there yet; however, and until I am I will press forward with blind faith and hope for the future.
In case you were thinking you weren’t brave or strong, I want to remind you that you are. I want to remind you that the broken is beautiful, that the fear is human, and the hope is divine. I want to tell you that I am amazed and humbled by you.
Today is a new day. Make it all your own. I mean, if you’re going to rise, you may as well shine.
Give ‘Em Hell