as i spend time with my parents i’m getting to know a lot of their dear sweet friends, and i’m realizing just how precious life is…. their friends are always so happy to see me. so happy to be hugged, so a happy to have someone listen to their story, whether it be a complaint or a piece of gratitude. they just love that someone is taking the time to listen.
i find comfort in knowing that i’ve made a difference in someone’s day, with a simple hug and the making of time to listen.
the more i listen, the more i hear stories of suffering, loss, sadness. everyone has experienced some form of pain. but what seems to be the most revealing, is that there are those who are still wallowing in the pain, (and these folks always have something to complain about, usually the food) and then there are those who were able to dig deep and find meaning from the pain and have created joy in their lives (and these folks always have something nice to say – ‘you make me so happy’).
i can spend my live searching for the meaning of life, or i can rise and create meaning. just as i can spend time pondering ‘who am i’ , or i can make choices to create the me i want to become. i like to think that in the creation of meaning in my life, i can consciously pick up the pen, and write my own story. no one does it for me.
and i now know that i can’t pick up the pen for someone else and write theirs…as much as i would like to help.
everyone has his own story to write.