A Story.

I used to work with a woman who had a very hard exterior. She was really aggressive and I had formed my opinion of her as soon as I met her. Without even knowing her much.

It wasn't until I had a conversation with her one time about her children that I got the full picture of who she really was. She lost a daughter to cancer at five years old. And as I watched her tell her story, it was evident there was still pain there. It was very apparent that this event had shaped her and stuck with her, heavy and cold.

After that it was different. I felt differently about her, of course. How could I not? At that point I had no idea what pain could do to people.

That same woman came to Christian's hospital room to visit him when he was in the PICU full of tubes. Out of all people, you never know who will rise to your occasion.

And you never know someone's story until they tell it. Everyone has a story.

 I am the first one to admit I am judgemental and anyone who knows me knows this and can vouch for me. It's a character flaw. I'm working on it. I have no choice to as I meet people from all walks of life and we share a bond of tragic events - not the ideal bond - but a bond that lasts forever and never, ever goes away.

I've blogged about this before, but you really never know what is lurking beneath the surface.

Frankie from the show, "The Middle" reminded me last night...



I wanted to stand up and cheer. Cheer for my own need for others to understand and cheer for those of whom I should offer compassion and understanding.