In this world of yelling, chanting, sending messages, protesting… listen. Yes, in order to listen, there must be someone who is not listening. And in order to listen, it requires giving up ourselves.

Rights. That’s a thought we humans have gotten stamped into our minds. Especially here in America. We have no rights. We have privileges. We have been given absolutely everything. Including the mental capability to comprehend the fact that we have been given everything.

Many of us… most of us have forgotten today that communication is a gift. It’s not a right.

Life is a gift. It’s not a right. It’s not ours. Our lives were given to us. Imagine you’ve been given the best gift ever. And you decide that it was yours from the beginning. How do you think you would treat it?

You know how you act and behave in public places? Or at a friend’s house? Or at church? You don’t laze around in your pajamas, slouch, leave messes of dishes, or anything like that. You do your best to leave a good image.

Probably because you enjoy being respected. You respect the fact that someone thought to include you in whatever was going on that place you are in.

But when it comes to our life, for some reason or another, we seem to feel like we’re responsible for the beating of our hearts, the pumping of our blood, the intricacies of our mind.

In fact, we seem to feel like we have the basic functions of our mortal bodies under perfect control that we decide to go a step further and take control of our lives. Why? Because 

We treats gifts differently from what we believe to be rightfully ours. We tend to treasure the physical gifts we receive throughout the years. But life… the greatest gift of all… and the needs, the desires, and the beauties of life… we demand are the things we believe we solely deserve.

We have been given much. And the hardest thing to do is to let go and listen to others, to be a gift for others. Part of being a gift to others is that some will treat the gift you are like the gift of life they’ve already been given – like dirt. Like you’re supposed to be there to be stepped on.

No matter how many people read this post, there will be those who throw what it has to say. They’ll throw it to the ground and paint over it with graffiti. They’ll have plenty to say. Yet somehow… no time to listen. No heart to listen.

The problem is that so many people just want to say something when they really have nothing to say.