Tag Archives: pain

When circumstances drag you screaming down the highway of life

I haven’t been on here for a while, because a circumstance in my life pretty much sucks right now.  Out of respect for those involved, I am not going to divulge the details at this time.  Besides, this post is not really about the circumstance itself.  Rather, this post is about my response to the circumstance.

I’d like to start by saying that what I am experiencing is completely new to me.  The torrent of emotions is a bit terrifying because they are so strong.  At this stage in this current reality, I either feel everything, or nothing.  I’m either fully engaged in my terrifying emotions, or not at all.  I want to spend enormous amounts of time by myself.  I don’t want to cry in front of people (because I am already prone to crying at the drop of a hat, I cry about this without warning or much provocation) and have to explain myself.  I think you get the point that there is nothing in between either option.  Everyday is a fight to stay focused on life.  I have to be able to “do” my life according to it’s rules.  I still have a son to love and care for despite the circumstance.  I have a husband who needs my empathy just as much as I need his.

Life has taught me that new experiences feel awkward, strange, and scary. My brain has to store the new experience as memories and grow new neurons based on those memories so that the experience becomes familiar and part of my brain-scape.  Perhaps this is why a lot people dislike change so much, because the new experience takes time to get used to.  But, eventually one does get used to the experience.  One mostly knows what to expect, and (mostly) how to respond.  The stored memories and new neurons give us a structure to rely on.

Being the intuitive, introspective, deep-thinking sort, I will learn things from this experience.  After the worst of this is over, I will be able to look back and see the blessings, the bad stuff, the I-never-want-to-go-through-this-again stuff, even the happy moments.  Next time, I will know how to respond to the circumstance, and to my own emotions.  Next time, I might be able to find a middle ground between the terror and the numbness.

Despite the difficulties, I am grateful for the opportunity to learn and grow.

I am grateful.

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Don’t clam up. A blog post on taking risks in relationships…Part 1.

Author’s note: As I write this blog, I am finding that there is really two parts to this topic: taking risks in relationships in general, and the process of choosing a person with whom to take a risk.  In the interest of not writing a REALLY long post on both parts, I am going to break this into two parts.

A dear, sweet friend of mine, whom I have known since childhood, has been hurt quite a bit lately by relationships.  As a result of her pain, this appeared on her Facebook page:

While can appreciate the reason for the sentiment, I’m not sure I agree with the idea behind it.

I got married at the age of 20, mostly because I was pregnant and I needed the father’s health insurance to cover the related health care costs.  We had convinced ourselves that we loved each other and that we could make marriage work despite the true reason for marrying.  Little did I know that that marriage would end in disaster.  While I was no angel in this marriage and contributed to the failure of our marriage, I felt I was treated horribly, including, but not limited to, adultery on his part at least once, probably twice. Then, I was left, and divorced, by the person who had pledged to stick with me through thick and thin.

Relationships are risky.   The potential for being hurt, or hurting another, is huge.  People often present the best of themselves at the beginning, then the worst of themselves comes out as time goes on.  Often, the worst of ourselves, and the other person clash, causing chaos in our relationships.  Unless the chaos is effectively worked through or controlled, the result is generally a split (or a divorce if one is married).  It has to be said than in some cases, there is no hope for the relationship, no matter how much work goes into the relationship.  Splitting up with someone you committed  yourself to can cause intense emotional pain.  This pain is akin to having a limb ripped from your body, even if the other person was horrible.  The suffering can go on for years afterwards.   Self-doubt can creep in.  Fear of being hurt again becomes the new paradigm.  Any potential future relationships are affected by past hurts. One can be come overly-cautious in their attempt to try out this new relationship while avoiding true risk.  Which makes the new relationship more likely to fail.  Like I said, it’s risky.

When my marriage failed, I was at the beginning of the long healing journey that I have been on.  Frankly, at the time my marriage failed, I was not capable of managing the hurt associated with ripping and tearing that was going on.  I did not understand myself, nor the reasons that my marriage didn’t work.  I was single for about 7 years before my current husband decided he wanted to date me.  During that 7 years, I had to do a lot work in counseling, and with God, to overcome the terrible feelings of loss, anger, and sadness.  For 7 years, I was a single, working mother struggling to make ends meet, and trying to manage my volatile emotional state and a child who severely struggling as well.

The idea of adding a husband, and stepfather, into the equation was downright scary.  Like so many situations I observed, adding a man into my, and my son’s, life was extremely risky and likely to result in chaos.  What if my son and husband didn’t get along (they didn’t for a long time)?  What if my husband committed adultery like the first one?  What if he left me?  What if he couldn’t deal with the emotional baggage that came with marrying me (he does with a ton of grace)?  What if we just couldn’t work out our problems?  What if one of us gave up hope (I’ve been close a dozen times or more)?  What if my marriage failed?  Taking that step toward marriage again was a huge risk.  It could end in disaster like the first one.

The desire to close oneself off to the world, to potential love, to other people becomes intense after a split with someone you once loved.  Wrapping yourself up in hard shell of safety really only results in a life half lived.  Sure, you are safe from harm, but you are also safe from joy, happiness, fulfillment, and a good, lasting relationship.  This hard-shell reality affects how you react to other people, how you make decisions, how you behave in relationships.  You cannot fully commit to another person when you live your life this way, even if the person you found is the best person for  you.

The heart of the matter is that while putting yourself in a position to not “be let down” feels safe, I believe you are actually risking more than if you allow yourself to take the risk of being hurt.  I think I have made that the point that taking risks is dangerous,  BUT (with capital letters no less), I believe that taking risks is a necessary part of living life to it’s fullest.  Sure, the potential for hurt is there, but the potential for joy is there too.  The hurts described above can eventually heal, if you allow that to happen.  That’s right, you can heal from the hurt.   I would like to add an addendum to this statement: I think that one can make poor choices in partners and end up going the healing process over and over again.  If that’s what’s causing you so much pain, I would question how you choose partners.  So, we are gonna talk about that in part 2 of this post.

You are not forever tainted by your marriage’s, or relationship’s, failure.  You can rise above the associated pain and suffering.  You can place yourself in someone else’s hand again.  And, if you get hurt, you can  heal, again.  Unless you allow yourself to take that risk, you don’t know how something is going turn out.  You can live a a full life with someone by your side.  You can put your trust and hope in someone else’s hand.  Let yourself out of your shell.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

It’s your turn: do believe you can be healed from the hurt caused by failed relationships?

Telling My Story… My Mother

My relationship with and my feelings towards my mother are complicated.  Honestly, she was not a very good mother.  In fact, I’d say she was was a terrible mother.  It would be easy to just stop there and just hate her.  Jesus won’t let me just hate her, hence the complicated feelings.  My mother had it just as bad, or worse, as I did growing up.  According to her story, her father abused her.  He was also an alcoholic as was her mother.  I never knew my grandparents, so I cannot attest to what kind of people they were.  But, I don’t have any reason to doubt her story.

My mother just couldn’t deal with life.  She was alcoholic, adulterer, and a drug addict.  My mother was overbearing, confusing, mean, and selfish.  I never knew if I was coming or going with her.  I never really knew if she loved me or not.  She didn’t believe me I talked about the abuse that happened with my father.  She claims she didn’t know or notice anything.

When I was 19, I had met a man that was strong and tall and cared about my safety, or at least I thought so at the time.  My mother threatened to to hit me one day, so I left with this man’s help.  For the next 14 years, I kept myself separate from my mother.  I tried for one year in the  middle, until things went south again and I split.

Then my mother overdosed on opiate based painkiller about 8 years ago.  This was quite a shock and started the present journey I am on trying to cope with both the relief I feel at her death, and the sadness that I feel because I was never able to reconcile with her.

So now, even after all these years, I still feel have confused and complicated feelings.

God wants me to forgive my mother, over and over again.  He wants me to let go of my past and try to feel empathy towards my mother’s plight.  He wants me to heal from the wounds.

So, I keep pushing forward and keep trusting that He knows best, because, well, He does know best.

Some day, perhaps, my feelings won’t be so complicated.

Eyes- Day 7 of the Just Write! campaign

If  you have been following this at all, you know the drill about what I am doing.  If not, click here.

I  skipped day 6 last Thursday because I was in the hospital with a kidney stone.  I actually missed not writing Thursday (despite the tremendous physical pain) and not writing the 5mf on Friday.  I am taking that as a good sign.

So today’s word is Eyes.

Eyes

Your eyes see me and all that I am.

You are not satisfied to let me stay where I am.

Your eyes look at your creation and say “It is good”.

But, you are not satisfied to leave things tarnished and undone.

Your eyes see my hidden and dark places despite my efforts to hide and shelter my pain.

You are not satisfied to let the darkness rule  my being.

Your eyes see the potential I have despite the sin in my life.

And you are not satisfied to let me leave  my gifts on the floor untouched.

Your eyes see my beginning and my end.

Your are satisfied to water, nurture, and give sunlight to the time in the middle.

You are satisfied to make me a priority and to help me flourish.

You are satisfied to help me be more like Jesus more and more everyday.

Because your eyes see me and all that I am.

Who would attend my funeral? Some thoughts on friendship.

Don’t worry, I am not planning my death or anything crazy like that.

In It’s a Wonderful Life, we spend the first two acts getting to know George Bailey.  He grows up in a small town of no real consequence.  He has loving parents, and a brother, he is friendly, loyal, honorable, part of a local community, and is bent on seeing the world.  But, life takes some twists and turns he did not expect.  Instead of traveling the world, he marries, takes over a business he does not want (his father’s Savings and Loan), has a few kids, builds homes for others, and does his darndest to keep the local baddie at bay.  He has some friends and life is okay.  Until something terrible happens, and he effectively wishes he were dead, or had never been born.  The third act of the movies shows us what life would be like in his small town had he never been born.  Life is ugly without him in Bedford Falls.  A measuring stick was held up to his life when the townsfolk started to show up to help him out of his crisis.  George needed that angel to show him that alternate reality to help George to understand what his life has meant to others.  George definitely made a difference and it showed.

Sometimes I lie awake at night and wonder if I died, who would show up at my funeral?  How would I be eulogized? What would people say to those closest to me in an attempt to comfort them?  I used to have a morbid fascination with this idea because for a time I felt that no one would show up.   I felt lonely and afraid that I would die alone and unnoticed.  I struggled with invisibility (and often still do) and felt disconnected.  I really wanted connections in my life so people would show up at my funeral.  Initially, my motives were selfish.  I wanted people to care about me enough to care about  my death.

God does not like selfishness.  He likes selflessness.

Forging lifelong friendships is a long and difficult process fraught with danger and pain.  There were some relationships that were toxic, some that just ended, and some that kept going.  The friendships that kept going were eventually based on a mutual exchange of time, trust, and energy.  At some point, this process became less about what I could get from others, and became more about what I could give.  A bowl of soup here, a friendly and kind word there, a much needed moment of free childcare, some empathetic tears, a hug, a kiss, a little cash, trusted advice, helped others to know their worth to me.  And I receive these things in return and can feel my worth to those people.  The Holy Spirit gives us energy to maintain relationships with others because He desires an exchange of love between Him, us, and others, above all things.  Relationships matter.  Jesus said that the world would know us by our “love for one another” and that “no love greater is this; that he would lay his life down for his friends”.   Having friends is not really about what you can get from others, it’s about what you can give to others.  It’s about offering yourself, your gifts, your wisdom, your time, and your energy to other’s benefit.  The more you pour out, the more is poured into you.

I have many people that I love dearly outside of my little family.  Let’s cross that out; these people are my family.  I rejoice that these people are my brothers and my sisters.  They really care about me, and I really care about them.

To quote Clarence the angel, “…no man is a failure who has friends.”

Would love to hear your thoughts here….

Rapunzel

What a chore.  Day after day, I drag this hair around.  Why do I bother?  Hair this long is burdensome and gets in the way.  Constantly having to step over my hair, brushing and binding it up into a manageable bundle, and the constant washing is, well, a chore.  Yet, there is something about this hair that I just can’t let go.  Maybe it’s the way the sunlight glints off of it with hints of gold.  Maybe it’s the way the slightest rustle releases the scent of lilac.  A blessing and curse, my hair is to me.

The other day, I thought I heard a voice.  I thought I heard someone call my name “Rapunzel”.  The voice was soft and alluring.  Perhaps it was just a dream.  My captor came again to visit me here in my tower.  She had put me here a while ago when I stumbled and lost my way in the woods.  My hair was shorter then, just to my waist.  After my captor had put me in the tower, she tried to cut my hair to make it more manageable.  But, it always grew back.  Eventually she just gave up, and it grew and grew.  Now, I struggle day in and day out with this hair.  But, back to the voice.

The voice came calling again today. Confident and strong, “Rapunzel” it said.  This time I felt compelled to take a look outside.  After I had stumbled  my way over to the window, tripping on my hair (yet again) I peeked over the sill to the ground below.  And there he was, a prince.  He looked especially dashing in his emerald blue tunic reflecting gently off of his blonde hair. “Rapunzel”, he said with a smile on his face.  With that smile a memory comes rushing in from the dark corners of  my mind.  Years ago a man, with this same smile, came to me in my days before the tower.  He told me that my strength would be tested in days to come and that I feel alone.  He also told me that I would not be alone, his spirit would be with me.  His spirit would give me strength to get through the dark time, but there was a requirement.  When the dark time came, I needed to let my hair grow no matter how long it got.

And now, here he was at the foot of my captivity with a smile on his face, calling my name.  “Rapunzel” he said, “Let down your hair”.  Now, how in the world was I going to do that?  The hair was everywhere!  “Rapunzel, Rapunzel.  Let down your hair”.  I looked over the side of my tower, hesitating.  And there he stood with a kind smile on his face.  “Rapunzel, sweet Rapunzel.  Let down your hair.”  With a sigh, I begin the onerous task of gathering my hair to throw it over the side, down to the prince.  After a moment, the prince took a solid grip on hair and started to climb.  Hand over hand, step by step, he made his way slowly to the top until he reached my window.

I looked at him for a moment, wondering what this was all about.  “Why are you here?”, I asked the prince.  “To rescue you, of course.”, said he.  His answer caused me some concern since there was no way out of here.  No locked door that could be broken, or stairs that came after to lead the way out.  How would he accomplish such a task?  From somewhere in his cloak the prince produced a sharp blade.  With a slight twinkle in his eyes, he reached around to the nape of my neck and sliced my hair clean from my head.  Needless to say, I was more than a little shocked and bewildered.  So many questions ran through my head.  He had asked me to grow my hair so long ago, and now he cuts it off?  And how is this going to help me get out of this place?

The prince set about braiding the hair into a rope.  He then tied it around a study pole and threw the hair-rope over the side.  He proceeded to climb down.  Dumbfounded, I couldn’t move.  It was that easy.  Throw the hair over the side like a rope, and climb down.  Then I would be free from my captivity.  “Rapunzel”, said the prince, “Don’t just stand there.  Climb down with me.”  Happy to comply, I ran over and grabbed a hold of that hair that I had hated so much, blessing it as I climbed down.

This little fable I have spun off of the real story of Rapunzel, bring into focus the need for obedience, even when we don’t understand.  At the beginning of my walk with the Lord, He asked me to grow my hair long.  I really didn’t understand the need for this.  Over time the Lord revealed to me that the length of my hair would serve as a symbol to me of my need for obedience, much like Samson.  Surely, there have been times when I wished to be free of this burden and wanted to rebel.  Perversely, this caused me to want to cut off all of my hair.  Thankfully I have not.  Obedience is difficult in the face other people’s opinions, circumstances, our own pain and lack of understanding.  Yet, obedience to God’s plan brings life, fruit, and rescue in our dark times.  The bible is full of scriptures about obedience such as:

Genesis 22:18
and through your offspring all nations on earth will be blessed, because you have obeyed me.

Deuteronomy 5:33
Walk in obedience to all that the LORD your God has commanded you, so that you may live and prosper and prolong your days in the land that you will possess.

1 Kings 2:3
and observe what the LORD your God requires: Walk in obedience to him, and keep his decrees and commands, his laws and regulations, as written in the Law of Moses. Do this so that you may prosper in all you do and wherever you go.

1 Peter 1:22
Now that you have purified yourselves by obeying the truth so that you have sincere love for each other, love one another deeply, from the heart.

2 John 1:6
And this is love: that we walk in obedience to his commands. As you have heard from the beginning, his command is that you walk in love.

Has there ever been a time when  you were called to obedience, even when you didn’t understand why?

Down in the valley so low. Up on the mountain so high. And tighten up that brain, why don’chya’?

Moments of clarity can be blindingly brilliant.  Bringing light into the dark places, reveals the what’s been hiding in the dark.  Which makes these moments of clarity something to fear.  When there is no light, no one can see the mayhem that the darkness brings.  Who wants to see the mess they have made of themselves, right?

I feel so low right now.  All I know right now is feelings of defeat, despair, self-loathing, and anger at my stupidity.  And, I really have no idea why.

Paradoxically, I feel like Noah’s dove bringing back the olive branch that I found on tree that is high up on a mountain top, free of the floodwaters.  Free to go off and do what I was meant to do in the places I am meant to do them.

Such a strange place to be, both high and low altogether.

As I was sitting and pondering all of this my brain was listening to the movie playing in the living room, Spy Kids.  This is not a deep or profound movie.  But the moment that I tuned into the dialogue the father spy, Gregorio, was explaining some research he had been involved in to his wife spy in a flashback.  The research was for developing artificial intelligence and was called the Third Brain.  While the various researchers are busily working on their versions of the “Third Brain”, the spy in charge of the project walks by one of the researchers, pats him on the back and says something like, “Why don’t you tighten up that brain.”

Hearing this gave me pause.  It’s as if God is challenging me to “tighten up” my brain.  God, in His grace and wisdom, teaches us in our infancy how to live our lives according to His rules.  The bible says that He doesn’t give us more than we can handle.  I take that to mean that God expects me to be able to stand on my own two feet and walk out this salvation of mine.  Especially since His strength is flowing through my veins.  Which means that I have the power to speak His light into the dark places in my soul.  When I get to the realization that I need to tighten up my brain I usually go here:

Psalm 42

As the deer pants for streams of water,
so my soul pants for you, my God.

My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.
When can I go and meet with God?

My tears have been my food
day and night, while people say to me all day long,
“Where is your God?”

These things I remember
as I pour out my soul:
how I used to go to the house of God
under the protection of the Mighty One
with shouts of joy and praise
among the festive throng.

Why, my soul, are you downcast?
Why so disturbed within me?
Put your hope in God,
for I will yet praise him,
my Savior and my God.

My soul is downcast within me;
therefore I will remember you
from the land of the Jordan,
the heights of Hermon—from Mount Mizar.

Deep calls to deep
in the roar of your waterfalls;
all your waves and breakers
have swept over me.

By day the LORD directs his love,
at night his song is with me—
a prayer to the God of my life.

I say to God my Rock,
“Why have you forgotten me?
Why must I go about mourning,
oppressed by the enemy?”

My bones suffer mortal agony
as my foes taunt me,
saying to me all day long,
“Where is your God?”

Why, my soul, are you downcast?
Why so disturbed within me?
Put your hope in God,
for I will yet praise him,
my Savior and my God.

Which generally leads me to repentance of my attitude.

Repentance is a funny thing.  Imagine that you are standing in the darkest of caves.  The master of the  light has given you a torch and a match, of which you light.  And there you are, crouching amongst the bones and debris of your sin, filthy and in tattered rags, hair matted against your head.  You are both crouching in fear of the light, and the light-bearer.  You need to coax yourself out of the corner and gently reveal the need to say to the source of the light, “I am sorry I fled from your light.  I don’t want this cave of darkness anymore.”  Repentance seems so simple, but it is so hard to do.  Yet, the reward is worth the price.  As soon as you turn to the light-giver, He breathes life into the dark place and blows away the filth and yuck from every corner and every crevice so that the cave has no remnant of the sin it bore.  And you look as if you have been undergoing the year-long beauty treatments that Esther underwent so she would look her best when she met the king.

Lord, please forgive my unbelieving attitude.

It is now time to tighten up my brain and say to myself “Why are you downcast, oh  my soul?  Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God.”  Amen.

Do you have anything to repent of today?

Play (paint, write, draw, dance, sing, speak) the Sunset

“What is it that you like most about yourself?”, Mr. Holland asks the young red-headed girl next to him, clutching nervously to her clarinet.  “Well, my dad says he loves my hair.  He says it reminds him of the sunset.”, she says with a little nod to  her head as if to affirm the belief that her hair does indeed resemble the sunset.   “Then play the sunset.”, Mr. Holland says to her (paraphrased from my memory of this little exchange in Mr. Holland’s Opus).  After hours and hours of practice, the girl finally was able to play her clarinet beautifully and with confidence.  Sometimes, we just have to get out of our own way.

Do we believe God when He tells us something about ourselves?  Does this knowledge inspire you to greater heights or leave you cowering in the corner?

The Creator of the Universe believes in  you because He created you.  He put the color of the sunrise on your head, the depths of the ocean in your eyes, the sprinkling of cinnamon on your skin.  He believes in the shape, the size, the loudness, the quietness that is you.

You only need to believe it yourself.

Believing in the creation that is you empowers  you in an infinite measure to move beyond the moment, to climb higher than you have ever been.

So, go! Paint, write, draw, dance, play, sing, or whatever it is that you do, the Sunset.

Chrysalis

Formed from my own skin, wrapped in my own desire.

What was me, is not me, anymore.

Me is different.

Wrapped tightly in my own desire.

I put myself in this darkness,

Wrapped myself in this pain.

I long to be free.

Pushing, shoving, hoping.

Looking for the light,

That must be there.

Chrysalis, set me free.

A scent, a sight, a sound.

Can it be?

The urge of freedom,

Stronger than my desire.

Pushing, shoving, straining to be free.

At last.

I can fly.

The Garden of You

This post
is dedicated to a precious person, Jessica who has a beautiful blog.
Reading her blog is a delight, like visiting a garden.

Dear Precious Friend, I came by your garden today for a visit. I
saw you in the distance with the wind playfully attempting to
displace the little straw hat (You know, the yellow one. With the
polka dots) sitting prettily upon your head. You seemed engrossed
in your work as you hummed gently to yourself. Knowing you, you
were probably composing a song. Then you saw me. You turned and
laughed, then waved at me to come on over for a spell. On my way
over, I noticed a little pond you had put in. There were flashes of
red, gold and white making ripples in the water as if to welcome me
here, to your garden. In another little nook I noticed that some
fairies had been busy building a little home for themselves,
knowing in their hearts that you wouldn’t mind. You looked warm and
a little tired from your work, but happy. There may have been a
little stick or two in your hair, it was hard to tell amongst that
deep brown hair. Little clods of dirt had stuck themselves to your
legs. Honestly, the dried mud didn’t look very comfortable, causing
your skin to wrinkle and pucker. However, you barely seemed to
noticed the dirt clods because you knew they would meet with their
ultimate demise; to be washed away. You squatted down by some
recently disturbed earth. I noticed a multitude of hardworking
earthworms busily making their way back into the soft, moist earth.
Those little guys are a definite sign of good soil. They are always
working to soften the hard ground, just below the surface where you
can’t see them. You asked me to come closer and take a look at what
you had been doing. You explained to me that this little plot of
land had almost been swept away by a flood recently. But, you had
managed to keep it safe. You said your gardening teacher had been
by and helped you protect this area from the swift, unforgiving
waters. You told me he had said that this was a special little
place, destined for greatness and beauty. “And see,” you said,
“I’ve already planted the seeds.” Having come to visit your garden
a few times recently, I feel I understand that making this place
special has not been easy. Blights seem to pop up out of nowhere
ravaging your precious plants. Or, crazy weather comes screaming
into this place bringing darkness and flooding that attempts to
desecrate and destroy the life here. By no small miracle, every
little petal, blade of grass, and leaf survives, and, in spite of
the storms, thrives. Whenever I come to visit, you take me on a
tour of delights. The sweet, soft scent of those perky red roses
reach up and tickle my nose, daring me to smile. The gentle sway of
the weeping willow by the water allows me, for a moment, to safely
feel some sadness, which is a balm to my soul. Sometimes the little
rabbits come out to peek at us and twitch their noses as if they
know something we do not. We stopped at your new pond. You showed
me the little fish that you put there. “My friends” you said, with a slight tilt to your head.
They come to visit when you arrive, even when you have nothing to
give. Sometimes you sing them a song, sad or otherwise. Sometimes
you tell them a story. They absorb every morsel you give them then
radiate back love to you for your gentle gifts. Eventually, we
arrive at the heart of your garden, that most sacred place. Here is
where you sit, hours upon hours, with your gardening teacher.
Listening, learning, asking tons of questions. Sometimes, I come in
to visit, sometimes I don’t. And, that’s ok. Because that is your
special place. On the way out, we always pass the little patch of
earth that you intentionally leave untended. It serves as a
reminder of what this garden used to look like. You have
worked so hard ,my friend, to put your land back together. And it is
amazing. Even more amazing than before the hurricane that nearly
wiped this place of rest and beauty from existence. Thank you,
Precious Friend, for allowing me to visit your garden from time to
time. Stephanie