“I don’t think we’re crazy, I think we’re canaries.”

It’s a line from the book “Love Warrior” by Glennon Doyle Melton.  “…there were deadly, invisible toxins in the mines, but the miners’ bodies weren’t sensitive enough to register the poison. So they carried a canary in a cage down into the mines with them sometimes.  The canaries body was built to be sensitive to the toxins, so the canary became their lifeguard.  When the toxin level got too high, the canary stopped singing, and the silence was the miners’ signal to flee the mine.” 

“I don’t think we’re crazy, I think we’re canaries.”

img_2843This is my cousin (sister), Lynette.  When I think of this analogy of the highly sensitive and intuitive soul, I think of her. Lynette is a canary. She sings her song without ever opening her mouth – you see it in her eyes and in her smile.

Sometimes she stops singing, but only because she feels it all so strongly – all the invisible toxins that surround us.  They can become too heavy for her tender heart.

Oh, but don’t be fooled. She is strong, too. She is a bad ass canary.  A world traveling canary.  A Machu Picchu climbing canary.

I asked her the other day how many countries she has been to and she said she wasn’t sure – she’d have to think about it.  She said this not in a bragging way, but just – I saw her start to count on her fingers and then she got distracted before she could find the answer. It’s that many.

Eyes are the windows to the soul, and you could swim in the depths of hers (though I warn you, prolonged eye contact is a pet peeve).

To me, she is the personification of warmth. She is the type of person who goes out of her way to make people feel comfortable and important – from her elementary school students to the Uber driver to…to everyone.

She listens. Really listens. In a world in which doing so is extraordinary.

If you are lucky enough to be loved by Lynette, she will move mountains for you. When she can’t do anything to help, she will call or text you every single day to let you know she’s thinking of you – that she’s there, in the mine with you.

Oh, and did I mention she is pee-your-pants funny?  Yeah, that too.

To me, she is perfect, and she sings the most beautiful song.

(Editor’s note: Singing might be the one thing she isn’t actually good at. It’s a metaphor, you guys.)

I love you so much, Lynette.

4 Comments on “Day 60/365 Lynette

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