My sweet boy.
You’re only nine years old and even though I so hate to see you hurt the way you do right now, I know that I can’t stop it.
And yet even now I celebrate, because the reason I can’t prevent your pain, is one of the reasons I most rejoice over you.
I know that you are frequently targeted and so easily wounded because your heart is so full and so open.
You leave it bravely unguarded, completely exposed, and you feel so very deeply for people and for this world.
You are already sweet and caring and compassionate in ways that most people never grow to be before they die, and because of that I know how much damage their words do.
I know that the bullies seem so big and so strong right now; that they tower over you, threatening to shut out the light that is around you and put…
View original post 419 more words