Monday, November 5, 2012
They're not significant moments in any significant way. But they mean something to you. You sort of ache with contentment, with love for people. For just simply who they are.
Someone you barely met writes to you about their life in Singapore. The book you're reading mentions snorkeling and you think of your friend and that one crazy story. Another friend texts you "goodnight freak" and you can almost hear them saying it.
Like I said, not significant moments in any significant way. But they mean something to you.
Because all of these friends or somebodys are real people. They have flaws and beauty and grit and nobility. Because they are someone real. And all of these little things about them--their stories, their text messages, their word choices--tell you a little bit more about them, reveal the deeper someone within. And when you realize you've had the privilege of receiving these little gifts of insight into this someone, you become aware that these gifts are treasure. And that these people are precious. They're more than just another someone--even if they are a world away or if you barely got to meet them.
And you love them for it--for just who they are, in just that moment.