Gesuschic

 I pride myself in writing. Being able to verbally express myself by way of cutting my soul wide open and having myself spill all over paper or way of internet. It’s the one solid thing I have such a strong confidence in.
Because I have no doubt in my chaotic mind…that I’m actually good at it.
I shamefully admit there isn’t a lot of things I can really say that about. I was telling a friend the other night that I’m not very smart, not at all educated. (I don’t count street smart, haha)
However, expressing my heart into words?
I got that down!
For quite some time now, my Pastor has been telling me I should write about all of the people, I’ve had cross my path since….”The Divorce.” And I’ve tried. God knows I’ve tried,.
but I get stumped.
Speechless.
Lost in thought, with a big fat writers block as they say.
I think I bring it on myself. because I get so emotional I can hardly stand it. I’ve listened and heard so many stories by broken people it’s hard for me to not attach myself to their sadness, their joy, their heartache…I start thinking about each and every one of them and my heart will begin to feel a heaviness way beyond  a numeric weight.
There was a homeless man who pushed a shopping cart around and every day he would come into the store when it began to get dark outside. He knew I was scared in the store alone.
So many people would complain and call him a vagrant. As though his mere presence hindered their every day life. Yet his mere presence in that store made me feel oddly safe and secure. One time he told me that I was the only person to ever ask him what his name was and how he found himself in Columbus, Ohio. How heartbreaking is that?
His simple kindness and conversation gave me a safe comfort, for both of us really.
Then there was a sweet elderly man who would come into the store every Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday and buy some pecan dainties (a.k.a. turtles) and red hots for his wife. He had just retired after their last child was graduating College when his wife had been diagnosed with breast Cancer. She and him had been here for a few weeks while she had a double mastectomy and was recovering from that three year battle. The last time I spoke with him, he came into the store to say goodbye. He was so full of joy as he told me “She’s getting the all clear to be released today!” He also said he wasn’t taking her home, but on a month long cruise they had talked about taking “for years” yet never had the time to go. “I almost lost that girl” he said. Speaking of his wife of 57 years who was well into her late 70’s The sweetest thing though; “Now, I will never take time with her for granted ever again.”
My heart exploded.
Sigh…
The recovering heroin addict trying desperately to get her life together, just so she can get approved for supervised visitation with her children. On certain nights, her walk home from work would bring her into my store. “Demon nights” she would call them. “I just can’t go home right now. I’m not strong enough to handle that empty place. Can I hang out and talk to you for a bit?”
I welcomed the company.
The happy little girl who would stop in the store everyday after school, (except for Fridays because she had dance). Our conversations consisted of her day at school, a crush she had on a certain boy, my hair, her hair…everything. Her mom worked two jobs and she was an only child.
The intimidating thug who would buy 10 boxes of zip lock bags every other day, HAHA! At least twice a month he would offer me a blunt on him, for me “lookin’ out” by double bagging his purchases 😉 Considering how mean he liked to portray himself, i’m gathering I’m probably a part of a very select few whom he ever shared a smile with.
In talking with all of them, and sharing my own fucked up story of unwanted change and loss, I found a common connection with each and every one of them. Although we were all totally different people, coming from completely different walks in life. We were all pleasantly surprised in the fact there was another human being out there, who, even just  for a moment, gave a shit.
My journey is far from over. I’ve already passed another set of crossroads and onto another. But already have I met more people who have shared pieces of themselves with me. The one thing I’ve tried to take from the past three years and  God awful divorce, is the fact that nobody comes strolling into your life without reason. It all serves a purpose. Whether it’s a lesson for you to learn or to teach another, it happened for a reason. We should never look at anything we go through, as time wasted. Somebody somewhere needed it. Make sure it wasn’t supposed to be you. Because there’s nothing worse than walking away from a devastating circumstance and not being changed into a little bit better of a human being than you were before.
The roughest part, is meeting people that you know are only going to be in your life for a season. Yet undoubtedly make you feel like a better person by simply being around them. Getting to know them is reason enough to have hope. In the fact, God hasn’t forgotten you. I’ve said it before. You get glimpses of people like Adam while on your journey. Those are what make life so beautiful. Those precious moments of serendipity. Those unexpected places in life where you feel this sense of creepy vulnerability  then all of a sudden…it’s not so creepy.
Adam is by far my absolute favorite person I’ve met on this path to new life.
He’s an old soul.
One conversation with him, and I feel like I’ve absorbed a universe of lessons.
I get this feeling about Adam that I’ve known him before. Thousands of lifetimes before, yet everyday I look forward to getting to know him better. Does that make sense?
Every time I  spend even a second with this guy, I take a mental note, because I don’t ever want to forget a single thing that he unknowingly poured into my spirit. He is so genuine, he probably has no clue that;
His friendship is so cherished.
I fall in love with him everyday.
I love learning from him.
And even though he’s in my life, I already miss him.
The toughest part in getting to know people and attaching myself to their stories is, I don’t want to let them go. Everybody seems to always have to leave, and that sucks ass.
To be completely honest here. It’s true, I fall in love with everybody. Especially when I can feel a connection to their soul.
I hope everybody I’ve met remembers me.
I hope I’ve been able to give to them, as much as they have to me.
I hope I’m not so easily forgotten.
There isn’t enough words in any language, to express my love for people and their story of life.
There are so many others, but I can’t possibly go into all of them. You would be reading into the next galaxy.
Just take it from me.
It’s so incredibly easy to see the bad all around you, but you have to notice the good that’s there, or you’ll miss it. Trust me, it’s there. It’s definitely there. And it’s breathtakingly euphoric.