When I watch the movie trailer (post from March 23), I cry every time at the ending. I hear this young woman's pain and relate. I know. I understand. But I didn't until I walked in her shoes.
Until our mold exposure I dismissed symptoms. I was quick to assume psychological issues when I heard of a chronic condition. My 11-year-old daughter Kaitlyn asked me a perceptive question after she watched the trailer. It hit me like Nathan's conversation with David in 2 Samuel.
"Mom, if it were someone else with mold would you have thought they were crazy?"
I thought of all the times I heard the words "stress" and "enabling." The doctors who told me my child needed a psychologist. The unbearable helplessness and isolation. I took a deep breath and answered, "I don't know honey. I honestly don't know."
The truth is I probably would have thought they were crazy. And I hate that.
I hope I come away from this experience a different person. Bigger inside. Softer. More willing to walk in another's shoes. Less apt to judge. Less critical.
Maybe I'll start today.