Whenever I watched a Hallmark commercial, my eyes would swell up in tears. I cried easily when my feelings were hurt. Throughout my life, I’ve been called “too sensitive” or told to “get a thicker skin.” It bothered me that I felt more deeply than others. For a long time, I thought my sensitivity was a weakness in my life.
While standing at the kitchen sink washing dishes, I watched the suds roll down the drain as the tears rolled down my cheeks. Earlier that morning, a battle of the wills ensued between myself and my son, ending in frustration, anger, and more than a few thoughtless words.
It was on an out-and-about kind of day, filled with errands and meetings and school pickups, that the splinter wedged itself into my index finger. I couldn’t stop to dig it out, so I spent the day rebuking it. You, Mr. Evil Splinter, are not supposed to be here.
They are called myoclonic seizures and have been a constant companion our whole married life due to Steve’s spinal injury in college. But four years ago, a simple diet adjustment changed all that. And for the first time, my husband lived without the fear of being jerked around, until now.
I met my first mentor, Andrea, in a basement cafeteria on my college campus. It was over three decades ago. But in time, I came to know the significance of why and where we met. Through Andrea, God brought an experienced soul to my newly believing heart. She was on staff with a campus ministry and discipleship became our bond. Our meeting in the basement cafeteria was symbolic.