I can tell it has been another bad day by the way he walks in the door, his shoulders slightly slumped and the grin that used to welcome me is turned upside down. He pretends to smile for me and the kids but it never fully reaches his eyes. He unloads all his stuff onto the dresser but the weight of years of disappointments rest heavily on his shoulders.

I watch him, wondering how to help ease his irritation. I want to offer words of encouragement but they stick in my throat, not knowing how to dislodge his hurt. When I finally open my mouth, my suggestions sound canned and only increases the hurt. He gently responds to me, “I know the correct answers but I am just mad.” His wounds masks themselves as anger but deep into his green eyes you see the hurt.

Read More Here from my guest post on Flourish