At the end of the day you don’t hear my prayers for the ones I love who are agonizing over broken hearts.
At the end of the day you don’t feel my tears brought on by self-inflicted wounds.
At the end of the day you don’t see the ring with 4 corners where the fighters are me and me and the tale-of-the-tape doesn’t matter because a simultaneous KO is coming. And I’m down for the count.
At the end of the day part of me hopes you see victory, courage, strength, endurance, and love. Because I’ve won many rounds, been brave, gathered my strength, stayed the course, and loved well far more often than not.
But part of me hopes you look deeper and recognize pain behind the deep blue water in my eyes. That you see that sometimes everything is not okay at the moment, and remind me to back up, be still, and rest.
At the end of the day I long to be loved the way I love. To feel the way I do when I see the sunset or feel the breeze in summer or hear my children laugh.
At the end of the day I look like my Momma and sound like my Grandma. I’m a Momma of three, a pastor’s daughter, a best friend, a truth fighter, an encourager, a mentor, a thinker, a poet, and a writer.
But don’t let this piece of writing that seems to be all about me fool you. Because the truth is…
At the end of the day I’ll love you even if it hurts me. I’ll help you out even if I can’t afford to. I’ll pray for you even if you hurt me. I’ll put you first even if you only ever take and never give back. Because when the day settles, it’s not about me.
It’s about how well I love you.