Thank you for the ways you’ve held the emotions of those around you your whole life without being asked.
Thank you for not getting a thicker skin.
Thank you for crying in the middle of the popcorn commercial and your presentation at work.
Thank you for withdrawing during class because your rage was so great at the disrespectful comment from a classmate.
Thank you for struggling with boundaries because your heart leaps out of your chest to help others before your cortex says, “Hold on now, have you adjusted your own airmask?”
Thank you for your sleepless nights worrying and praying or planning for millions of other people who will never know whose face to thank.
Thank you for spending a whole Netflix season worth of time weighing how to act with equal parts justice and mercy.
Thank you for over apologizing from your devotion to create harmony.
Thank you for giving up the mic and extra rolls of TP to prioritize the advancement of others.
Thank you for speaking and writing and dancing when no one will listen, read or dance with you.
Thank you for holding in your cells the weight of the whole range of emotions and being unwilling to cut any loose in order to move faster through life.
Thank you for the courage of your purple heart to endlessly risk being vulnerable.
Thank you for telling us years ago, decades ago, millenia ago that we belong to each other–that relationships are the most important treasure we have.
Thank you for being right and living it out while the world around you was deaf.
Thank you, Canaries, even when we stayed in our mine shafts.
Today I celebrate your sensitivity and ask your forgiveness for making you feel like there was something wrong with you.
Your sensitivity has been and always will be the super power that will save us all. The medal of honor to the sensitive ones. May we continue to listen to you when there is no virus. And may we broaden our definition of leadership from those with Phds, social media platforms, big titles, big vocabularies, and seats on the panels to those with soft, cracking voices half-choked with mine dust.