There is an Oscar Wilde story called "The Happy Prince." In this story, there is a statue of a young prince on top of a palace, with jewels for eyes, and covered in gold leaf. The prince, being on top of the palace, is able to see all of the problems and troubles of the kingdom. And is therefore unhappy. A bird is induced to assist the Happy Prince in sending his jewels, and his gold leaf covering, to various people who need help. This continues long enough that the bird misses the opportunity to fly south for the winter, and therefore freezes and dies. The statue of the prince, no longer covered in gold leaf, is taken down and thrown onto the garbage heap, along with the dad bird.
Just thinking about this story, for no particular reason, I started crying.
Now it's possible that I started crying just because it was an Oscar Wilde story, and so many of his stories are so beautiful, and so tragic, and so lovely. But I also see it as the story of my life here. I am giving away my resources to the volunteer organizations, and the churches, and to individuals. And I'm getting nothing back. No support for my damaged and broken soul. And when my resources are spent, I will be thrown on to the garbage heap and forgotten.
(See also https://www.instagram.com/p/C84RuZost0Y/ )
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