I have a tendency to want to fix other people’s problems. Over the last year I’ve come to realize that there will be times I fall short, not because I’m any less eager or motivated, but because sometimes they aren’t my problems to solve.
Sometimes they aren’t even problems, but experiences that need to be had.
My best friend just lost someone she loved. No matter how much I want to light the dark paths for her, I can’t. She has to go and grow through these moments alone.
The same goes for my baby nephew. At 7, he’s probably one of the kindest, sweetest human beings out there. He’s incredibly perceptive and a little gentleman in the making. He’s also one of the only people in my entire family who isn’t afraid to voice just how much he misses my grandmother.
Over the weekend my brother sent me a picture (shown above) of something my nephew worked on in school. (It breaks your heart a little to see so much hope, love and sadness lives in a colored picture where the word heaven is misspelled.)
My nephew wasn’t prompted to write about my grandma and when he was asked why he did it, in a very matter of fact kind of way he said because he missed her.
Some days you must strive to be as brave as a seven year old.
