“hold fast to dreams, for if dreams die, life is a broken-winged bird that cannot fly.” (langston hughes)

we wandered arm in arm around the fairgrounds, one antique booth to the next. it was good to be outside on this day, a little cooler than the surprisingly hot day before. we weren’t looking for anything, really. just idea-gathering, noting how people were re-purposing items, laughing over things folks were selling as antiques that we still use every day.

a big armoire got our attention and we walked over to it. the young vendor gave us a few minutes with it before he approached.

within minutes of our first question about the armoire, he had begun telling us of the life-struggle he was in, seemingly desperate to share it, to voice it, to maybe bring a different kind of energy to it.

we listened. i was aware we were both getting uncomfortable a couple minutes in, but both of us could also see he needed to tell his story. and so we listened.

when he was done – except for staccato-ing out another detail here or there – we talked about how life will go on, how light will return, how everything will be ok. he became less intense then and smiled, saying he was already better off since the initial traumatic moments.

this young man has sat on our hearts since then. and so has the lesson we were reminded of – to listen.

in those moments we have all had – when we are broken-winged birds – we have sometimes had someone, somewhere, who has given us hope. someone who has lifted us. someone who gives us perspective. someone who nudges us to remember our own value. someone who reminds us of joy. and of dreams.

someone who tenderly repaired our wings so that we could fly.

we are both so grateful for those someones.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this WEDNESDAY

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