I will not write what I wish to write. I MUST heal from it.
Something will change within me because I simply must stop whingeing.
Maybe there is something in the Nouwen book which will help. The Big Call of the elder brother of the Prodigal. I did write for 10 minutes but then I decided to delete. Hand it all over and let it go, Lynne.
You are the one holding a beautiful baby boy and visiting with family.
O Good Lord. Now a huntsman spider just above my pillows. I did the spider under plastic container routine and put it on the front step. Add it to the leaking washing machine and rampant grass and garden. Ah well.. Ah well. I am either going to break into a million starbit pieces or harden into a diamondic creation.
Now I can do screenshots on iPhone.
Because, you see, I have had no idea as to whether or not I would make it through.
One breaks. Breaks not knowing whether or not it is a shattering beyond repair. If I were to see one as injured and damaged as I have been, I would not harm them in the slightest. I would soothe and comfort and offer succour. That is what I shall be doing for this profoundly wounded woman.