You’re only three now. You don’t know that this world is filled with heartache. You don’t know the pain that rips through hearts every single day. Lives are exploited, wounded, stolen due to hatred, to corruption, to evil that lives within this world.
I know pain, and I wish you never had to know it. I know heartache, and I wish I could protect you forever, but I know that’s not the answer. Because the world doesn’t need men and women who shield themselves and plug their ears, who go about quiet lives and turn blind eyes when hatred and cruelty exist. So as much as I want to, I won’t tell you to hide. I won’t raise you to strive for an easy, shielded life, because that’s not how to live— how to live.
But I will tell you this:
I’ll tell you that there is good amidst deep heartache. That you must search and uncover it with every bit of strength within you. That there are tiny shreds of hope in the deepest darkness. That sometimes hope will look like a helping hand, like a tiny miracle, like strength to keep going, and sometimes it will look to someone else like you— standing your ground, extending your hand and loving rebelliously, defiantly, unconditionally, no matter what.
I’ll tell you to fight for the good. To be a voice that calls it out in others, that acknowledges their worth, their value, their beauty, even when they’ve been told or treated as though worth is the last thing they possess. See their worth and treat them with so much love that they won’t be able to forget the way their reflection looked in your eyes.
I’ll tell you to rise, even when you are sinking, and I’ll tell you that you don’t do it alone. You do it by reaching your hands out, crying out in faith and hope, and by watching your prayers answered, as love finds you and your own heart fills to overflow— spilling onto others, mending the dry, desperate earth.
This love gives courage. This love saves lives. This love heals hearts. This love is what it is all about.
You’re only three now, but someday you’ll learn that hatred and cruelty and heartache exist, and in the face of their existence, the world is crying out for unconditional, defiant, wild love.
Be that love, baby boy.
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