It’s heartbreaking some times. Not every day. Not even most days. But on occasion, sitting in the front row of other people’s hurt, well it hurts. That sick to your stomach, ache in your chest, kind of hurt.
Yesterday was one of those days. A day when in the time it takes to sign a signature, the mood of the entire day flips. One minute, I’m not even thinking about who is going to walk through the door. I’m sending a congratulatory email to a friend who has just sent exciting news. And the next minute, I’m handing out Kleenex and taking deep breaths to keep my own emotions in check.
The signing of paperwork is routine around here. I’ve drafted and signed these documents countless times. And that’s what makes days like yesterday so difficult. It’s knowing that most days I’m oblivious to the brokenness. Most days I don’t think twice about it. Most days I don’t see the tears. Most days I don’t know the hurt. Most days I forget.
On the one hand I’m glad most days aren’t like yesterday. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to do that every day. On the other hand, I pray, Dear Jesus, help me not forget the brokenness. Mine. Theirs. Even when on the outside the people I meet act like everything is OK. Help me remember their hurt.