My frame wears its carbs, irritatingly. My mouth wears its feelings, unfortunately. My thoughts wear their reading, hopefully. Ideas, places, people, shock, beauty, disbelief mingle throughout our daily conversation. The ink on countless pages have grown, shaped, given, asked, answered, and switched on the light. Now, a home library and a half later, a shoe-full of children and I, enter these worlds together, adventuring and stretching. Prayerfully, our wearing the stories of others will overflow true beauty, compassion, thankfulness, and understanding. My heart wears an ache of gratitude.