Thinking Out Loud, Volume CDLXXXIII

It was a twice in a lifetime event for me: My child, my own flesh and blood, whom I raised from birth to adulthood, reached that inevitable point where it's time to leave the nest. I'll never forget when that day came for my firstborn. She was moving out of town, and we loaded her belongings into her car and my van, then headed out. Her fifteen year old brother went along for the ride and to help with the moving. We took two cars down and came back in one. Three people went down there, and only two came back. I was a big boy, all calm and collected, as my son and I walked out of her apartment, but I promise you, if someone would've said "boo" to me, I think I would've sobbed. It was a quiet ride home. Had I been alone, I would have cried. Just a few short years later, I happened to be working out of town when that day came for my son, and my wife was helping him pack his things to move out when he said, "Mom, you don't want me to go, do you?" She just said, "No," as she was choking back tears. On the day I'm writing this, I have just come home from a funeral. My good friend, Elizabeth, lost her mom, and during the service, there was a song that Elizabeth dedicated to her mother, and it really hits home with me. It is the Jason Crabb song that says, "Sometimes I hurt, and sometimes I cry." In that song, he talks about how he's one of these guys who seems to have everything going his way, yet there are times when he endures heartache, and when no one else is around, he cries. I wouldn't say this, or even think it, for that matter, if I hadn't heard it so many times, but a number of people have told Angie and me that they look at us a couple who has it all together. They tell us we both have good jobs, we've raised two great kids who are now successful adults, we have good heads on our shoulders, and life is basically going our way. Well, maybe so, but I was probably giving that same impression the day I drove away, leaving my daughter alone in her apartment, more than three hours away, for the first time. I can promise you, though, I was hurting at that moment. You wouldn't have known it by looking at me, however. I have another friend who has recently gone through a divorce, and every time I see her, she has a smile on her face. As a friend who knows some of her story, I see telltale signs that there's pain inside, but to a stranger, she appears to be living a happy, carefree life. An hour or so ago, I sent Elizabeth a text, telling her what a beautiful service it was, and how much I loved that song. Her response was, "...that song touches me, and matches me." Well, Elizabeth, my friend, I feel the same way, because "I try to look strong, as the whole world looks on, but sometimes, alone, I cry." I dare say every person reading my thoughts today can identify with those lyrics. The trouble is, we usually can't tell by looking, so how do we know who needs to be treated with gentleness? How about every person we meet! Being treated with gentle kindness never hurt anyone. Preston