The glasses and me

You’d think with my life experiences that I would be a lot less naïve than I am. 

You’d think that, wouldn’t you? 

Oh, but I’m not. 

I don’t really understand why God made me this way (add that to the list of things I need to ask Him when I get to meet Him). I have had some pretty crazy things thrown at me that would make one yank off those rose colored glasses and start eyeing the world with a cynical eye. 

Me… I’m a huge fan of pink glasses. They make things look so… dreamy and perfect. When I wear them, I trust. I forgive easily. I love hard. I live with abandon. 

The thing with wearing those pink glasses is that when they get yanked off, it hurts. Like… a lot. 

And then you see the world, its people… life, in a whole new way. 

Raw. Sinful. Yuck. 

I don’t like it. 

I live with my pink colored glasses That’s me. The real me. Wouldn’t it be cool if we could all wear the pink colored glasses? 

You’d see my heart… you’d see everyone’s heart. And once we saw each other’s hearts, we’d understand each other much more. Because we’d see the scars and the sorrows and we’d understand each other’s intentions. We’d know where the words were coming from… where the thoughts were headed, what everyone was actually trying to do. 

It’s hard for me when they get yanked off. I sit with them off for a while, trying to understand the world around me. I process… and process… and process some more. 

I think about my words, I think about their intent. I think about the confusion swirling my life. I think and think and think. I’ve been thinking for a while now… 

I need to go find those glasses again.