You know...there are those people in our lives who always go out of their way to help others. We all have them. Sometimes, it's not just one person...but many who do little, and big, things to make the day brighter. I've been thinking about this a lot lately.
Cause I'm married to a person like that.
If you've been reading for the past three years...you know all about him. He's that guy.
The guy who held my hand through oceans of tears. Who walked with me for hours as I tried to find my breath. Who cheered me on as I told you my story. Our story.
The father I always wished I had...my children have.
This is a man who not only spends his nights and weekends loving his family, but who spends his working hours nurturing and protecting the hearts of others who have known the bottom of the barrel. He typically refers to his clients as his friends. When I asked him why he does that...he replied "Because I love those people. They aren't just clients. They ARE my friends."
That's called being a therapist who cares. Not just a little. These people matter to him, like his own children...like brothers and sisters. Mothers and fathers. And he gives his soul to all of them. For that small hour...their problems are the only problems in the world to him. And his clients know that. His friends know that.
What most of them don't know is that I hear him crying in the wee hours of the morning. Crying and praying. Begging. He begs that the babies of the world who are being raped will be loved. He begs that women who are beaten by their partners will be loved. Will find a safe place to go. He pleads that men, who are afraid of their own desires, will be brave enough to speak out instead of trying to kill themselves...leaving the people who love them behind. He sobs...over his own grief. The grief that he tries to muffle, because he doesn't think I can handle the burden.
I've noticed that he seems sunnier when we have longer days. I've noticed that the rays of sunshine seem to lift his pain a little. His eyes seem less burdened. But...summer is short in Montana. And winter is long. As the days already grow shorter, I've felt my chest tighten a bit as I know the glimmer that is surfacing in his eyes again. It's loss. Loss of the sunshine. Loss of the ability to feel it on his face. Loss of the giving nature he finds in the long days of summer. Loss of warmth. Of light.
So...this morning...I heard him crying again. And I knew it was because of a particular pattern. Loss. He's going into his own practice. Which is exciting to both of us. Exciting. And scary. It will be a good thing. . .the best thing for him...and the friends who walk through his door each day. But...I'd like to give back to him in a way that will show him that the world cares as much about him as he cares about others. I'd like to show him that the support I have found on line is there for him as well. I'd like to give him the light he needs to feel joy on his face. I'd like to give him a place of light in our tiny home. A sunroom for Ty. Where he can sit in the morning...even in the winter...and feel warmth on his face, surrounded by greenery and tropical plants. I'd like to give a portion of what he gives others...to his daily life. I'd like to ease the pain of loss a little with a gift of abundance.
We can do it together. You held my hand through our loss. I know you can hold Ty's as well. Please click the Go fund me link on the side of this page, or visit here ---->http://email.gofundme.com/wf/click?upn=F0PHeOF0OgCLjus7brE3cffZYyhSi9ZYkIzgc8Xc3wox0UcOkhC101SUFWAoEQ7ciJC4VuCrqABFDOKYikUBu5YEDmgH2-2FtIJM5B-2Bep3bmtCDvlr5mRf7FsBY-2BgySfagqnCF0MW7YFErH0hDaGctJQ-3D-3D_9gT4VO-2FU0du27biN-2F-2BlZKNbMEbQ26Z2-2BWr9gFGfgb9SVy-2FcTSOHHwo5UQ8zKYWSzjySWT-2BdvUZfgKMpNRpj1Ebgp0bi3chQbPR7lym4AyAzao-2Bn3ygKWm8sp240yqQQDENZ1x-2FScBpHUGFNoCIUvKjQgOmF1phXlVe8eUs2wJHGpp5jqCqgBg5slamcYWuhhdKI40uOgvFEPlXzxVBgmauXtL746IqHP-2BFeIoApzEOs-3D and help me give back to Ty. There are so few good men in the world. Ty is one of them. Let's give him the sun!