There Was No Kleenex in the Garden of Eden

“I’m so tired of being sad,” I said to Dr. Everything’ll Be Alright (yes, Prince lyrics)
“I bet you are,” the counselor said calmly.
We talked some more until my hour was up and I left. I went back the next week. And we did some more excavating into my soul. At some point in the conversation I again said, “I’m just so tired of being sad.” And he said, “I bet you are.”

Well aren’t you going to give me something to fix that? A pill? A book? A suggestion? An exercise? How about some homework? Nothing? …Maybe he didn’t understand me.

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The Amazing Athletes of Divorce and Troubled Marriages

I tried not to look anyone in the eye as I scanned around the room. No one was forced to be in this class, yet no one wanted to be there. “I’m glad you’re here today, but I’m sorry you have to be here.”  The facilitator of my divorce support group didn’t need to command our attention.  None of us were feeling very chatty.

“We’re hoping to get a Godly perspective on an ungodly situation.”  The facilitator was careful and balanced his words around all the emotional china in the room. A few boxes of Kleenex held their place in the middle of the table. That’s never a good sign…

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