It is hard to keep on keeping on. It is hard to be joyous. It is hard to stare endless fears in the face and say, (in your own Gandalf-esque voice,) "You will not destroy me." I don't feel strong. I feel naked and vulnerable in the face of them. They beat me down and say, "There is no joy to life. Why dream of happiness that never comes?"
But I also don't want to look back at years of misery and remember only that. It's too easy to say, "I'll laugh when this is over. Once I'm relieved of this pain, then it will be easier. Right now I have to buckle down and survive." I don't want to look back and see only darkness. I want to see a light carried that made bright a dark time.
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JpgA mother, pondering what it means to be loved. CategoriesArchives
March 2017
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