Saint Dirty Face

The world has enough people announcing what they represent.

Good person.

Strong person.

Faithful person.

Loyal person.

Protector.

Leader.

Whatever.

Eventually, the nouns don’t mean much.

Show me the verbs.

When somebody’s world goes dark, what do you actually do?

Do you listen?

Make the call?

Drive across town?

Bring dinner?

Sit in the waiting room?

Tell somebody the truth they don’t particularly want to hear?

Admit when you don’t know how to fix it?

Stay anyway?

Because helping people isn’t always cinematic.

Sometimes there’s no breakthrough.

No perfect advice.

No inspirational soundtrack swelling conveniently behind you.

Sometimes your entire contribution is:

“I don’t know what the hell we’re going to do either. But you’re not doing it alone.”

That’s enough more often than we realize.

I’ve spent a lot of years believing strength meant having answers.

Age has corrected that particular piece of bullshit.

Some problems don’t have answers.

Some losses can’t be repaired.

Some people don’t need your wisdom.

They need your presence.

Faith doesn’t always illuminate the entire road either.

I’ve asked for the floodlights plenty of times.

Usually I get enough visibility for about three damn feet.

Apparently that’s the arrangement.

Fine.

Three feet it is.

Maybe that’s why I’ve become less impressed by people who constantly tell everybody how brightly they shine.

When things actually get dark, I’m looking for something else.

Who’s calm?

Who’s paying attention?

Who’s still there?

Who’s carrying something useful?

You don’t have to save everybody.

You couldn’t if you tried.

You don’t have to know the road.

You don’t even have to pretend you’re fearless.

Just become somebody people can trust when visibility gets shitty.

Not because you’re the light.

BE THE ONE WHO BRINGS A FLASHLIGHT.

Because sometimes love is considerably less poetic—

and remembered to bring batteries.

SAINT DIRTY FACE™
Imperfect on Purpose. Faithful with Fangs.