"He" Said I Was Lazy

I had another big day of packing, so no art-making. I sorted art, but I don't think that really counts. Now, safely tucked in bed, I have no reserve energy, let alone creative energy. However, I do have a story to tell.

I went to my massage therapist at Massage Envy today. I have finally lifted the last of the book boxes, so I treated my back to a massage. When I say I am a teacher, it often opens up good conversation. The therapist shared about his difficulties in school because he is dyslexic. He didn't find out until he was an adult; while growing up, his parents just thought he was lazy. The thing that really grabbed at my heart was that my therapist would not refer to his dad as "dad". He only said, "He thought I was lazy, He said if I lived growing up when he had to, I wouldn't get away with such laziness." He went on sharing that "he" said none of his sons would amount to anything. I had to assume he meant his dad.

I have actually had that experience of not being able to use the term I should have for my close person due to trauma. So, I totally got why he couldn't say "dad". I started praying for him in my mind, and marveled at the wounds that were still there haunting the therapist. By the therapist telling his story, he was validating mine and my odd habit of not being able to use an intimate name.

He restored my back, and I encouraged him to advocate for his son when he is in school. It was a good session all around. I hope he can get healing for his heart. Please, Lord.