We parked close to this old house on tour recently & I decided to go over & take a closer look. What I hadn't realized at first is that all the windows stood open, baring all of the damage of the inside for everyone to see. There were ripped out parts of old construction materials and cinder blocks and thorny weeds all around the exterior, assuring that you couldn't get too close. KEEP OUT, the sign on the front said, even though the steps had obviously fallen apart years before. As if there was a way to even get close enough to the door to try to enter in. KEEP OUT, the sign read, and I couldn't help but wonder if this old house looks a lot like some of us do sometimes. We put up doors & windows & fancy exteriors to make sure nobody can ever truly see what's on the inside. Or perhaps when the inside becomes a little more open, that's when the thorny weeds pop out. We do our best to hide & deflect and to keep people at distance. We put up caution tape & we beg people not to come too close. But what would happen if they did? I was reminded today that heartache and grief and pain is all present to remind us that we're alive. And what a gift to be alive and to be able to feel things! Even the horrible things, even the uncomfortable & painful things, even the things that don't look pretty on the outside & that are sometimes thorny to the touch. What a gift to be alive & to be able to pick and choose who we let in & who we keep at bay & what kind of precautions we take to protect ourselves. And if I could be so bold, I would suggest doing very little to protect yourself at all. Instead, let people in. Let people see the messy and the ugly. Let them touch the thorns with their own hands. Let them be close enough to know all the pieces that are falling apart and all the parts that used to be prettier than they are now. Together, choose to celebrate that you're still standing; nobody's taking that away from you. You're still taking up space. You're still greeting people, day after day. You still have so much to offer. And the broken and dilapidated and the messy bits, those are there because you've been alive this whole time. And what a gift that is.