Reflection

It's been five years since I started this blog. I was twelve when I got up the guts to announce my existence to the internet, which is ironic, seeing as barely anyone reads this blog. Reading through my first posts to now, it is almost comical to see my juvenile origins and the huge change - the burgeon - that has taken place. Did I really post that many religious blurbs that have outright jabs at atheism? Where was my sensitivity? Or, should I say, my political correctness? Every tweener is allowed to be opinionated, awkward, brazen in some topics and shy in others. They're also allowed to grow. I'm continuing to grow.

As are we all...

The Pain of Love

Have you ever experienced genuine compassion for someone else? I imagine it's happened at least once in your life. For some, it's an innate gift. For others, it's an impossible task.

For as long as I can remember, I've wanted to help people, and lift their burdens. I've wanted to make others happy, because I cared for them. I was genuinely concerned for their well-being. I still am, for that matter. I've always thought it was a great gift, and a talent I had that I should cultivate and use. It has always brought me happiness. That is, until a few nights ago.

It was a great day. I slept in, I cooked a delicious breakfast with my family comprised of bacon, biscuits, and gravy. I had an entertaining rehearsal for a play. I relaxed the whole day, and had fun with my family, laughing as I pleased. What more can a day give you than being with who you want to be with, doing what you want to do, relaxing and laughing the whole way?

Happiness. I was truly happy. When does that ever happen? Once in a blue moon for me, at most. Of course, me being me, as the day was winding to a close I thought about my friends and family and how I wished they could be as happy as I.

Then I thought about all of the pain, weight, depression, and discouragement they were all feeling. Alienation. Isolation. Hopelessness. There was nothing I could do for them, even if I dedicated every fiber of my being to the cause, because none of them would let me in and let me understand.

And so dawned my epiphany. Charity and compassion are a gift when they can help, but they are also a curse when faced with helplessness. The sword revealed its other edge, cutting me deep to the heart in the process. Pain of a whole new make racked my body and soul, forcing tears down my cheeks as a void slowly grew in my very core. The pain of love.

Now I know why God weeps.