It’s easy to think that broken hearts are fragile,
but really, nothing could be further from the truth.
For a broken heart has been shattered and pulverized into pieces,
and yet, it’s still beating.
It’s still beating, and blood still flows through it,
even though it’s experienced a pain that hurts to speak aloud;
and so, it’s still whole — and you’re still whole, too.
You’re still whole, even though you bear more scars.
You’re still whole, even though your insides might hurt.
You’re still whole, even though your bones feel sad.
You’re still whole, even with your broken heart.
And that is a gift. …
We look at tiny squares full of people, scrolling past perfect photos filled with seemingly perfect families, homes, careers, and children, and forget that there is so much left in the unseen.
There is so much you don’t know about how that career came to fruition: the day jobs, and side hustles, and found minutes, and rejection letters, and roadblocks, and failures, and dwindling bank accounts, and tiny successes that nobody else saw — those stories never found their way to your screen.
So much is left in the unseen.
There is so much you don’t know about how two people came to join together as spouses or partners for life. You never heard the stories of heartbreak and heartache and trauma and sadness and singleness and self-discovery — those stories never found their way to your screen. …
When your heart feels like it’s breaking, and
you’re not sure how put the pieces back together,
I hope you remember how beautiful you are,
and that love is meant for you, too.
That’s my wish for you.
When you trip and fall and scrape your knees,
or fail and flail and bruise your spirit, I hope
you remember why you started in the first place,
and then I hope you stand back up and try again.
That’s my wish for you.
When you’re not sure which direction to turn or
where to place your next step, I hope you stop
and pause for a second. I hope you give yourself
the time and the grace and the space to gather
your thoughts, and remember where it was that
you wanted to go. …
Everything can change in just one second. In one second, you can walk into a room full of strangers, not knowing that the love of your life is in that room, too.
I know that entering that room can be nerve-wracking — I hope you step into it anyway.
Everything can change in just one second. In the one second it takes you to pick up your phone and text while driving, you can get into an accident, potentially harm or take a life.
I hope you put the phone down — I hope you wait to hit send.
Everything can change in just one second. In the second it takes to smile at a stranger, or hold a door, or say thank you, or give a compliment — you can brighten that human’s day. Perhaps they were clouded in sadness — and your words of encouragement were rays of light that broke through. You don’t know. You never will. …
There’s a story I often tell about an experience I had in elementary school — when I was in fourth grade, my teacher put a restriction on how many questions I was allowed to ask per day.
She told me I could only ask three questions, so I had to make sure that they were perfect, important, and pertinent to whatever lesson she was teaching at the time.
I know that the elementary school teachers and educators might be horrified as they read this. For questions, especially in a classroom, should be fostered. Nurtured. Encouraged. It is not a norm to squash the questions of young minds. …
When you burn the pancakes on Sunday morning,
and the bacon is charred beyond recognition,
I hope you clean the pan and begin again.
When the words you put down on paper seem stale and stiff,
and you question why you ever decided to be a writer at all,
I hope you have the courage to erase and begin again.
When the dream that you have does not come to fruition,
but instead bursts into a million pieces before your very eyes,
I hope you have the courage to pick those pieces up and begin again.
I hope you always begin again. …
The delivery man pulls up to our driveway, yelling at his phone — and whoever is on the other end of the line. He’s clearly angry about something — or at someone. My mother and I sit on the back stoop of my home, and he sees us and promptly ends the phone call.
We say, no need.
We ask him if he’s ok, and then he launches into a diatribe about how a car dealership had wronged his family, how their business was rather unprofessional and somewhat shady, and that he was trying to get his car fixed. …
What if you spent more time pouring
your energy into who you are walking
beside, rather than focusing on who
is standing in front or behind you?
Perhaps you’d learn to delight in the
tiny victories of life more, knowing that
there is always someone who is there
to share your celebrations, too.
Or maybe you’d be at ease with sharing
your messy bits, for you know that the
ones who pop the champagne for your
celebrations are the same ones who will
bring you a box of tissues when you feel
as though you’re falling apart.
Or maybe you’d pay closer attention to
who was missing from your journey and
your home, and so you’d begin to pour
your energies into widening your road and
the doorway to your house. …
A couple has decided to get married. They have dated for a few years, and perhaps even cohabited for a few, and now, they want to stand before their family and friends and God and whomever they speak to when the goings get tough — and promise forever. They want to build a life together, and grow old with one another, and hold hands for the rest of their days.
They share their excitement with family and friends, and coworkers alike — and for the most part, people are equally as excited for them. But then, it happens.
A well meaning individual says, “Just you wait. Soon, you’ll be squabbling. Soon, you won’t be able to do anything alone. Soon, you’ll wish you had stayed single longer.” …
There are so many things that go into choosing a life partner.
Marriage and commitment and forever are not something to be entered into without thought and conversation. Questions that you must ask of yourself and one another — do you want children? Where do you want to live? What are your politics? What is your religion? Do you want to emulate what your parents had — or are you hoping for something different? What does work look like for you? What does leisure look like for you? How does your forever human fit into the picture that you have for your life? …