A hundred years ago I was a pastor and read stuff like that,
said the (not so) stranger in the seat next to me, while the 9P barreled us through the gray streets of downtown. He didn't speak until I had closed the book, Becoming Human. This intriguing dialogue began just as he reached over to pull the line. His stop was next. He ended the conversation with thoughts on what happens to people's online accounts after they die, and then he walked away and went to work.
And I have felt for two days that a very special human to human conversation was missed -- the exact conversation I long to engage in with people I meet for the first time.
What's your story?
Every story is meaningful.
Every story is gold.
And sometimes, our stories are a burden that can only be lifted by a listening ear.
Friend,
I can't hold the whole world,
but I can hold your story.
& I would be honored if you held mine, too.
And sometimes, our stories are a burden that can only be lifted by a listening ear.
Friend,
I can't hold the whole world,
but I can hold your story.
& I would be honored if you held mine, too.
