Look at the man.

Look at the man beside you at home or at work or on the bus or train. Look. Here is a person. Here is someone's son.Here is a precious little boy, who used to love slingshots and spiders and sketching imaginary battle scenes between the intergalactic star people and the bringers of doom.Here, beside you, a tall, strong precious human being who is struggling, just like you, to feel more connected, more integrated - more whole.Just like you, this person has a history. He's made mistakes. He has regrets. Just like you, he would love to be listened to, heard out and every now and then, admired (for the things he does well) and honestly, supportively challenged to do the rest in a way that truly fills his heart and soul.I am writing this in honor of my own husband, my son, my father: the men in my life who have gotten lost, too often, in my expectation that they carry it all (and carry me) on their strong and willing shoulders.I am writing this to say thank you, with profound love, for being on this earth with me.