Share.

I've been feeling the tug lately to post. As usual, lots of thoughts have been bouncing around in my head as far as what to write. I've thought about what we've celebrated in the last few months, countered that with what we've mourned in the last few years, and reached one conclusion. I am blessed with the ability to share all of that. I feel like I have been given the gift of words. Of speaking. Of writing. Of sharing. I have been through a lot. And because of that, I have had a lot to share. Shoot, it's the reason I started writing in the first place. But where would I be...where would anyone be, without the gift of language? Think about how many times a day you use words. I know it's a crazy thought, but think about it. I am in a profession where speaking and writing are main components. How many times a day do you say hello to someone? How many times a day do you send a text or an email? Do we really think about how intentional we are being with our words? They may seem meaningless or fruitless words, but, in my experience, words can have a profound effect on someone.

The thought that has been swishing around in my head lately is, "How intentional am I with my words?" You never know the power of a simple "Hello" or a asking someone how they are and genuinely being interested in the answer. Our lives have become so inundated with words that I'm afraid they've lost their gusto. I know that not every conversation or interaction you have with a person in a day will be life-altering, but how many of them can? How many times does a person walk away from a conversation with you thinking how genuine you are? The power of words and language is immeasurable. Someone (not in my office) was a little rude to me today and I thought, "Ugh. I did nothing wrong. Why treat someone like that?" And I think that's one of our problems. When we get short or snippy with someone (and I know I do it too) we don't realize the impact it could have. Life is not perfect. It is not always shiny and happy. Sometimes you really don't feel like smiling and being friendly. Sometimes you want to cry and be angry and shout. That's all part of the beautiful gift of language. The hard part is to choose to use this gift to be genuine and not to be hurtful.

When I think about all that our little family of 5 has been through and what we've been able to celebrate, I am astounded. Sometimes I'm afraid that we have had too much good in the last few months and that the tide will change. It's a crippling fear that I have to actively choose to suppress. And then I think, "Damnit, we've had enough sadness over the past two years. We deserve this!" See, even in your mind, words and thoughts are always present. I've been detailing my journey through engagement, mourning, marriage, and all things in between. I've been able to use the gift of words to share my pain, my excitement, my fears, and my heart. It is such a vulnerable, freeing, heart breaking, blessed gift that I believe I've been given. I've said all along that I don't write for sympathy. I don't write for "fans." I write because it's what I feel called to do. I never realized that before. If my words and my thoughts can resonate with someone or make them smile or understand grief a little better, then my gift is being used how, maybe, God intended.

I love nothing more than to talk. And to share about my life. Sometimes I think I am funny, but mostly I think, and hope, that I am genuine. It is my prayer that I can share what I have been through and the feelings I have had throughout and have someone feel that I did so out of a true desire to share. I know a lot of keychains and Hallmark cards claim it, but I really did have the World's Best Mom. And the World's Best Dad. Okay, maybe I'm a tad biased, but I was loved unconditionally, whole-heartedly, unabashedly, for 20+ years. And I still feel that love. I feel that love because of the memories I have--because of the values I have--because of the love I have to share. That love manifests itself in my stories and in my writing. I only have memories now. I only have "was" and "were" in my stories. I don't have present tense stories about my parents' love. But my past tense is so real and so genuine that it gets me through the days when I yearn for the present tense. I lament the future, so I cling to what I have. I have crazy stories and antecdotes. I have mannerisms and qualities. I have love. That doesn't go away when a person does. I can talk about my parents for hours. For days.

 Sometimes when the five of us are together (okay a lot of the time) I picture my parents in heaven watching us. If I close my eyes, I can pretend they're going to sit down for dinner or call us in to watch Jeopardy. But mostly, I wonder what they're like in heaven. I wonder what it will be like. I wonder what they feel. I just wonder. When I tell people that my husband and I live with different variations of siblings (sometimes one sister, sometimes both, sometimes a brother, sometimes all of us) I feel a little pang of jealousy towards couples who get to be just the two of them. I wonder if we're missing any big moments not living just the two of us. But right now, that's not our life. Our life is together. The two of us--with my family. Our family. It is cathartic to sit around the table and talk and sing and laugh as a family. Right now, we're meant to have this time together. We're meant to heal with each other. I feel the closest to my parents when we are all together. When I watch my sisters. When I listen as my brother speaks. I feel our parents. Deep in my heart, I feel their warmth. Memories are not stale. The beauty of words and sharing is that you get to relive so much happiness. And everyone tells a story differently. I remember moments from childhood that my brother doesn't. When we talk it's like we're right back there. That's the power of words.

As I'm reflecting on my thoughts, once again, I feel like a lot of the same themes come out in my writing. I know I talk a ton about love and being genuine, and I pray that's the type of person I am. I am a child of Jeff and Lori--godly, courageous, world-class people who both tragically died. But I am first and foremost a child of God. Because of the love of Christ I am able to continually feel my parent's love. I am able to put my thoughts into words and share them. Because my parents instilled kindness and goodness in me, I pray that I am able to look a person in the eye and have them feel that warmth. I have very high expectations. I've lost friends because of that. I guess I'm just a simple person who believes in the power of kindness. The power of kindness in words and deeds. Because just like faith without works is dead, words without feeling are dead. Every person, on their worst day and in their darkest hour, deserves love and is capable of giving love. Throughout celebrations and triumphs, tragedy and stumbles, love never fails. The ability to put love into words and thoughts is a gift. Love God. Love people. Love yourself. And don't underestimate the power of a genuine conversation.