He’s a friend, I know this in my heart. I rarely get to talk to him or spend much time with him and his son. We are often busy working and go in separate directions when we leave for our homes. The few conversations I’ve had with him left me humbled. His gratitude for the smallest acts of kindness cut deep into my heart.
He came to find me today. He had a gift he wanted to give me. The gift he had was permission to share his story. I know the cost of this, I have witnessed his heart breaking as he opened himself up in an act of trust to share it with me.
My humility arises and I am feeling less than worthy of this gift. How does one go about sharing the heart of another’s story? Still, I know the preciousness of what he has just offered me. He is a man of value and desires desperately for his own son to be a man of worth. This is not a gift to dismiss and I know it, so I will be faithful to try and write it well enough to have it stand the witness of his own child. It may take me a while.
His heart in the matter was to share with others anything of encouragement he had to give, even in the tragedies of his life. A more noble sacrifice I do not know.