A picture is worth a thousand words, and so much more.
This picture was taken within the hour of my Core Four learning of my cancer diagnosis. We rarely show this to anyone. To you it may look like a typical family photo, but to us it is looking into another lifetime. We were each irreconcilably changed that day. It impacted our worldview. And we’ve paid a price for that. In the case of my two children, they paid dearly – in ways I couldn’t comprehend at the time.
Crisis, as defined by Webster:
We were in crisis. I was focused on my Core Four. Let me tell you what I see when I look at the picture above. I see a husband and father trying to hold everyone together. I see a daughter and sister who understands the weight of what she has been told and is trying to understand the ramifications. I see a son and brother who wants to be happy and reassuring regardless of how he feels. I see a wife and mother desperately trying to be positive and loving.
Those who came alongside us saw snapshots of our life. Some saw more than others. But no one lived this to the depth of my Core Four. If you’ve seen Steel Magnolias you will understand why I chose this particular play for today’s post heading. People were privy to scenes from our lives, but they never saw the moments that truly shaped us. The funny moments. The scary moments. The exhausted moments. Do we ever truly see others? Do we truly know what they carry on their hearts and minds? Do we choose to see each face as a soul with a unique story to tell? Sometimes it seems like we quickly judge others by their actions alone when we expect to be solely understood by our intentions. Dangerous. Isolating. We miss out on so much.
One of my favorite quotes from Steel Magnolias is, “I’d rather have 30 minutes of wonderful than a lifetime of nothing special.” I’ve been blessed to have far exceeded the 30 minutes. Every moment I get to spend with my very own Steel Magnolias (aka Q4) is something special.
The Time that is Given 