I love God. I know He has a plan for me and when my heart hurts, lately, I try to remember that He is there. Always. Even when I've turned my back on Him, He is still there. And, truly, I'm still standing because of Him.
Recently I was talking through my plan - my adoption one, the working through it one - with Sally (I need to update about all of this!) and she reminded me that it was His plan of how I came about. That God knew I was to be placed for adoption.
Ok, admittedly, I was a bit sour about that. I mean, c'mon...God wanted me to be adopted? God wants my heart to break with all of this? What kinda ball of crap is that?!
I also admit, now, that it's true. Not that He wanted me to be adopted or wanted me to hurt. But, that He had (and has) a plan for me.
Sal reminded me of this when she read to me Psalm 139. You can look up the full version in your Bible, but here's a bit of it:
O LORD, you have searched me and you know me.
You know when I sit and when I rise;
you perceive my thoughts from afar.
You discern my going out and my lying down;
you are familiar with all my ways.
Before a word is on my tongue you know
it completely, O LORD.
You hem me in—behind and before;
you have laid your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
too lofty for me to attain.
Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?
If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea,
even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast.
For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother's womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful, I know that full well.
My frame was not hidden from you when
I was made in the secret place.
When I was woven together in the depths of the earth,
your eyes saw my unformed body.
All the days ordained for me were written in your
book before one of them came to be.
How precious to me are your thoughts, O God!
How vast is the sum of them!
Were I to count them, they would outnumber the grains of sand.
When I awake, I am still with you.
Knowing that He has a plan for me...still...somehow gives my heart a bit of piece. I just need to trust my heart and continue to trust in Him.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Deep.
I'm meeting a birthmother tomorrow. Mind you, I've met birthmothers before and have talked to some. I know some personally. But, for some reason, I'm nervous about this one.
My ever faithful and constant cheerleader, Sally, is hooking me up with someone she's in contact with right now - who I'll refer to as 'R'. R is a birthmother and from what I understand, is in reunion and having trouble with it. Aren't we all? Having difficulty, I mean? It sure is not easy.
I guess I'm nervous because things are pretty heavy in my adoption world. I've written the letter...and Sal and I have picked a date to meet with my birthmother (more on those details soon). I'm feeling out the issue and working on it and praying on it, daily. It's difficult. In fact, it's probably one of the most difficult things I've done in my entire life. The issue runs deep.
Very deep.
I need some peace with it. It feels like an open wound, that isn't getting a break, to be completely honest. That's how it feels right now. This isn't fun. It isn't exciting...it isn't even interesting. It's a mess.
And, I'd like for someone...anyone...to swoop in, tidy it up and pack it in a box tied with a nice ribbon. A neat package. That can be tucked away for the rest of my life and never remembered or felt again. Please. Anyone?
But here I am. Meeting with a birthmother. (Not to mention Sal is encouraging me to take my letter with me tomorrow!)
I'm going to be praying hard in church tomorrow. I need some healing.
My ever faithful and constant cheerleader, Sally, is hooking me up with someone she's in contact with right now - who I'll refer to as 'R'. R is a birthmother and from what I understand, is in reunion and having trouble with it. Aren't we all? Having difficulty, I mean? It sure is not easy.
I guess I'm nervous because things are pretty heavy in my adoption world. I've written the letter...and Sal and I have picked a date to meet with my birthmother (more on those details soon). I'm feeling out the issue and working on it and praying on it, daily. It's difficult. In fact, it's probably one of the most difficult things I've done in my entire life. The issue runs deep.
Very deep.
I need some peace with it. It feels like an open wound, that isn't getting a break, to be completely honest. That's how it feels right now. This isn't fun. It isn't exciting...it isn't even interesting. It's a mess.
And, I'd like for someone...anyone...to swoop in, tidy it up and pack it in a box tied with a nice ribbon. A neat package. That can be tucked away for the rest of my life and never remembered or felt again. Please. Anyone?
But here I am. Meeting with a birthmother. (Not to mention Sal is encouraging me to take my letter with me tomorrow!)
I'm going to be praying hard in church tomorrow. I need some healing.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
No, but thanks for asking!
I was adopted through an agency – which I will refer to as the ‘Home’ - which housed me in their nursery for my first three and a half weeks of life. It was a small nursery…I can’t really remember how many cradles were in it (I had a tour when I was 10), but I’d say seven to nine. There was an attached little room with a rocking chair and diapers, etc. There was a birthmother’s house attached to the agency, too.
A few years back, the physical building of the Home was sold and the agency moved to a smaller building downtown and also expanded into a single parent resource centre in another part of the city. I assume this happened because, obviously, there are less babies being placed for adoption and there isn’t much need for a birthmother’s house, either. Let’s face it…things have changed since the 60’s and 70’s.
Today, I received a newsletter from the Home…and in it, they advertised a raffle they are holding, to raise funds for their organization (which is still non-profit). But guess what they’re auctioning off? Yep, an old cast iron cradle…that was in the Home for years…and yes…that would have been there when I was.
Ok – I know you’re thinking…it’s a cradle. So what?! But, it’s significant to me. And the tag-line that goes with it is, “Would you like to own a piece of history from the Home?”
I know that I’m sitting in a pile of adoption issues right now and my emotions are really all over the place. One minute I’m content…the next I’m happy…and the next, I will be on the verge of tears. But this sent me over the adoption edge.
Who would want to own a cradle…that numerous babies had been in…that were part of secrets and lies? Babies that were desperately wanted by their birthmothers…babies that were desperately wanted by potential adoptive parents…babies that brought up so much shame and secrecy for birthmothers and families…babies that society said should be given to families with two parents.
I picture myself in that cradle…at three weeks of age…screeching for my birthmother, when she came into the Home to sign her final papers that would make me hers no longer. I was the only baby in the nursery at that time…and this is what truly happened when she did come in to sign the papers. I screeched bloody murder. All I wanted was her.
Did anyone think this through…before they decided to raffle off a cradle? Seriously?
It made me slightly nauseous. Sure, there are probably many parents and adoptees that might want that piece of history, but for me…it made me physically sick to see the old cradle. I also had to walk quickly to the washroom – I’m at work – to pull myself together.
Would I like to own a piece of history from the Home?
No, but thanks for asking. I own enough history from the Home to last me numerous lifetimes.
A few years back, the physical building of the Home was sold and the agency moved to a smaller building downtown and also expanded into a single parent resource centre in another part of the city. I assume this happened because, obviously, there are less babies being placed for adoption and there isn’t much need for a birthmother’s house, either. Let’s face it…things have changed since the 60’s and 70’s.
Today, I received a newsletter from the Home…and in it, they advertised a raffle they are holding, to raise funds for their organization (which is still non-profit). But guess what they’re auctioning off? Yep, an old cast iron cradle…that was in the Home for years…and yes…that would have been there when I was.
Ok – I know you’re thinking…it’s a cradle. So what?! But, it’s significant to me. And the tag-line that goes with it is, “Would you like to own a piece of history from the Home?”
I know that I’m sitting in a pile of adoption issues right now and my emotions are really all over the place. One minute I’m content…the next I’m happy…and the next, I will be on the verge of tears. But this sent me over the adoption edge.
Who would want to own a cradle…that numerous babies had been in…that were part of secrets and lies? Babies that were desperately wanted by their birthmothers…babies that were desperately wanted by potential adoptive parents…babies that brought up so much shame and secrecy for birthmothers and families…babies that society said should be given to families with two parents.
I picture myself in that cradle…at three weeks of age…screeching for my birthmother, when she came into the Home to sign her final papers that would make me hers no longer. I was the only baby in the nursery at that time…and this is what truly happened when she did come in to sign the papers. I screeched bloody murder. All I wanted was her.
Did anyone think this through…before they decided to raffle off a cradle? Seriously?
It made me slightly nauseous. Sure, there are probably many parents and adoptees that might want that piece of history, but for me…it made me physically sick to see the old cradle. I also had to walk quickly to the washroom – I’m at work – to pull myself together.
Would I like to own a piece of history from the Home?
No, but thanks for asking. I own enough history from the Home to last me numerous lifetimes.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Birthmother advice needed...
Okay, birthmothers and others, I need your advice...so...please leave it!
So, I wrote a letter to my birthmother...which you know, if you've been following my blog. This letter was difficult to write for several reasons:
1. I wrote honestly and from the heart...not necessarily with the intention of actually sending this letter to M, but rather, to get it out. The letter is NOT mean, but it is honest...and sometimes the truth hurts.
2. Previous to last week, I haven't ever been able to write honestly from my heart...so it brought up a lot of feelings, sadness and more questions.
3. I'm not one for pity parties...however, the letter isn't one...it's just 'honest.'
4. It made me realize how big an issue - being adopted - has been for me. It is how I identified myself as a child. It's huge for me.
The letter was not an easy one to write...and I can imagine - from my bmom's position - it won't be easy to read. I want to make it clear that I do not, and am not, blaming her for giving me up...placing me for adoption...for the choice she made. BUT - her choice shaped my life...and I want her to know how it did. And yes, a lot of how it did IS difficult...but there are also positive parts.
Sally read the letter yesterday...and we only got to talk very briefly about it...we'll talk more. But her advice was...the entire letter would be ok to show M. She did suggest that I take out two sentences, which I've done. But she said the rest would be okay. I was kinda surprised...I'm not sure why I was, but I was.
I am not going to send the letter to M...but would rather elaborate more on the letter...add the good stuff and then when I go to see her (sometime before Christmas) I could read it to her. I just want her to hear my tone...with the letter, because it's so easy to read anger/hate into words if someone isn't speaking them in front of you. I don't want her to think I hate her...because I don't. I also want to give her the opportunity to respond and/or ask questions (which I will answer if I'm comfortable).
My question is...there are some difficult parts to the letter...of some issues and circumstances that I have had to deal with in my life. I know it will upset M to hear these. She is getting older...she was 36 (almost 37) when she had me, and I am 30, so she is 67. She has some major health issues and I feel like she's had a bit of a rough/sad life.
Should I be honest with her? Should I share the rough stuff with her? I don't need her to fix me...I just need her to hear me and take responsibility that her choice shaped my life.
I feel so torn...because I don't want to hurt her. I'm also concerned that she'll get up and leave (which I recognize would be HER issue, not mine).
Would you want your child - that you placed for adoption - to be honest with you about how their life unfolded? Would you want to know the difficult parts?
Advice, thoughts, opinions or feelings? Anyone?
So, I wrote a letter to my birthmother...which you know, if you've been following my blog. This letter was difficult to write for several reasons:
1. I wrote honestly and from the heart...not necessarily with the intention of actually sending this letter to M, but rather, to get it out. The letter is NOT mean, but it is honest...and sometimes the truth hurts.
2. Previous to last week, I haven't ever been able to write honestly from my heart...so it brought up a lot of feelings, sadness and more questions.
3. I'm not one for pity parties...however, the letter isn't one...it's just 'honest.'
4. It made me realize how big an issue - being adopted - has been for me. It is how I identified myself as a child. It's huge for me.
The letter was not an easy one to write...and I can imagine - from my bmom's position - it won't be easy to read. I want to make it clear that I do not, and am not, blaming her for giving me up...placing me for adoption...for the choice she made. BUT - her choice shaped my life...and I want her to know how it did. And yes, a lot of how it did IS difficult...but there are also positive parts.
Sally read the letter yesterday...and we only got to talk very briefly about it...we'll talk more. But her advice was...the entire letter would be ok to show M. She did suggest that I take out two sentences, which I've done. But she said the rest would be okay. I was kinda surprised...I'm not sure why I was, but I was.
I am not going to send the letter to M...but would rather elaborate more on the letter...add the good stuff and then when I go to see her (sometime before Christmas) I could read it to her. I just want her to hear my tone...with the letter, because it's so easy to read anger/hate into words if someone isn't speaking them in front of you. I don't want her to think I hate her...because I don't. I also want to give her the opportunity to respond and/or ask questions (which I will answer if I'm comfortable).
My question is...there are some difficult parts to the letter...of some issues and circumstances that I have had to deal with in my life. I know it will upset M to hear these. She is getting older...she was 36 (almost 37) when she had me, and I am 30, so she is 67. She has some major health issues and I feel like she's had a bit of a rough/sad life.
Should I be honest with her? Should I share the rough stuff with her? I don't need her to fix me...I just need her to hear me and take responsibility that her choice shaped my life.
I feel so torn...because I don't want to hurt her. I'm also concerned that she'll get up and leave (which I recognize would be HER issue, not mine).
Would you want your child - that you placed for adoption - to be honest with you about how their life unfolded? Would you want to know the difficult parts?
Advice, thoughts, opinions or feelings? Anyone?
Saturday, November 8, 2008
The letter...
I wrote the letter to my birthmother. I'm unsure that my birthmother will ever get to read it. In the midst of trying to write a letter that wouldn't dump all of my issues out onto her lap, I just had to switch the letter to what I REALLY want to say to M, right now. That said...a huge chunk of it is MY issues...which are not hers.
It sounds kinda woe-is-me - or maybe it really isn't. Maybe it's just the deeply rooted feelings I've never shared. However, it's honest. It's how I feel and it is what I want her to know. I've never actually written out some of the really deep thoughts and feelings and experiences of growing up as an adoptee.
The letter was brutal to write.
After I finished it tonight...I was overcome with a wave of anger. Just complete anger...at everyone.
I'm praying that I can do this. 'This' being...keep going, even though the going is tough and I want to run.
Tomorrow I'll be going to church with my Sally and the rest of the church posse and hopefully get to chat with her after and share my letter...and get her 'take' on things. I need to keep moving on this.
Please say a prayer for me.
It sounds kinda woe-is-me - or maybe it really isn't. Maybe it's just the deeply rooted feelings I've never shared. However, it's honest. It's how I feel and it is what I want her to know. I've never actually written out some of the really deep thoughts and feelings and experiences of growing up as an adoptee.
The letter was brutal to write.
After I finished it tonight...I was overcome with a wave of anger. Just complete anger...at everyone.
I'm praying that I can do this. 'This' being...keep going, even though the going is tough and I want to run.
Tomorrow I'll be going to church with my Sally and the rest of the church posse and hopefully get to chat with her after and share my letter...and get her 'take' on things. I need to keep moving on this.
Please say a prayer for me.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
A letter to my birthmother
I'm writing a letter to my birthmother. I began the letter some weeks ago, but never completed it. Actually...I never got past the two words, "Dear Birthmother..." Oi vey.
I have not spoken on the phone with M (bmom) since September. I just have not been able to bring myself to do so. I have - though - left her two voicemails and would have said hello, had she actually picked up the phone. But she didn't, which I was kinda grateful for.
It's not that I don't want to talk to her. It's that I don't want to have an awkward conversation with her about the weather, what she's eaten for lunch and what's happening on Survivor. I want honest talk right now. Feelings, emotions, experiences...deep stuff.
That's where I am with the adoption stuff. In deep. And I struggle with what I want/need to say and what I should, or should not, say.
Everytime I write something...it feels fake. I can't send it, so I rip it up or delete it. After telling this to Sally on Sunday, she asked if it would help if I shared the letter with her...so I said yes. I said yes for two reasons. One, being that...well...obviously, she'll give me her honest opinion and I'll get some grounded feedback. Two, I will get the letter written more quickly and make some progress.
Last night, I set aside some time and sat down. Then, I burst into tears. It's overwhelming. Writing a letter to the woman who gave you life, but yet is a complete stranger to you, feels unnatural.
After some deep breathing, I wrote the first sentence...and then it all came pouring out of me. Out of my heart and soul. It needs work and a lot more writing, but it's getting out of me. My goal is to have it completed and proofed (yes, I need to proof it...I'm a writer!) for Sunday.
I have not spoken on the phone with M (bmom) since September. I just have not been able to bring myself to do so. I have - though - left her two voicemails and would have said hello, had she actually picked up the phone. But she didn't, which I was kinda grateful for.
It's not that I don't want to talk to her. It's that I don't want to have an awkward conversation with her about the weather, what she's eaten for lunch and what's happening on Survivor. I want honest talk right now. Feelings, emotions, experiences...deep stuff.
That's where I am with the adoption stuff. In deep. And I struggle with what I want/need to say and what I should, or should not, say.
Everytime I write something...it feels fake. I can't send it, so I rip it up or delete it. After telling this to Sally on Sunday, she asked if it would help if I shared the letter with her...so I said yes. I said yes for two reasons. One, being that...well...obviously, she'll give me her honest opinion and I'll get some grounded feedback. Two, I will get the letter written more quickly and make some progress.
Last night, I set aside some time and sat down. Then, I burst into tears. It's overwhelming. Writing a letter to the woman who gave you life, but yet is a complete stranger to you, feels unnatural.
After some deep breathing, I wrote the first sentence...and then it all came pouring out of me. Out of my heart and soul. It needs work and a lot more writing, but it's getting out of me. My goal is to have it completed and proofed (yes, I need to proof it...I'm a writer!) for Sunday.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
I love her
I love her.
Not in a 'cutesy' kinda way. Not in the way that I love my attention-needy cat. Not in the way that I love to drive in my car with the music blasting and the window cracked open. Not in the way that I love looking at my clock on a Saturday morning and knowing I can roll over and go back to sleep. Not in the way that I love my friends, family and relatives.
I love her in a primal way. When I say the word 'primal', I mean: deep, natural, going back to the beginning, original, earth-like. She is a connection to a deeper part of myself. She feels like 'home', to me.
I'm talking about Sally.
Earlier this year, a sweet, sweet, friend of mine lost the love of her life. It was sudden and unexpected. Obviously there are no rules on grief and how one should feel, or deal, with this life-changing event. She is an amazingly strong, courageous and gracious woman that I trust, love and am blessed to have in my life. After her love passed away, we talked...a lot. We visited and talked almost nightly and emailed. She knew that she had my support and love.
However, we both knew and understood that I simply could not understand the depth of what she was feeling. I have not been in her shoes. I didn't lose the love of my life and to be honest, I haven't had a 'love of my life', yet, in my life. So while I tried to provide some comfort, which I did do I think, it wasn't on the same level as the understanding from two other friends who had been, and were, in her shoes. They understood on a much deeper and more personal level.
I have awesome friends - like the one above - that support me, are willing to listen to me and I know I can reach out to them, which I try to do. But, like I noted in the above situation, they can't possibly fully understand what it is like to be adopted, in a difficult reunion situation and struggling to find my way through all of this. It doesn't make their support of me any less - just different.
Sally gets it. She gets the language, feelings, hopes, dreams, fears, wacky behavior, sadness, fantasies, troubles, challenges, reality and everything else 'adoption'. She gets it in a way that only (usually) someone involved in adoption would understand. I haven't had anyone in my life - ever - that understands in this way. It is healing beyond words. Being able to have real conversations about adoption, with someone that understands, is amazing. I feel like I'm finally making some movement in the right direction. On top of that, she's just a really awesome person – intuitive, compassionate, intelligent, nurturing and quite funny.
I'm just so blessed to have her in my life, again. To have 'home', again.
Not in a 'cutesy' kinda way. Not in the way that I love my attention-needy cat. Not in the way that I love to drive in my car with the music blasting and the window cracked open. Not in the way that I love looking at my clock on a Saturday morning and knowing I can roll over and go back to sleep. Not in the way that I love my friends, family and relatives.
I love her in a primal way. When I say the word 'primal', I mean: deep, natural, going back to the beginning, original, earth-like. She is a connection to a deeper part of myself. She feels like 'home', to me.
I'm talking about Sally.
Earlier this year, a sweet, sweet, friend of mine lost the love of her life. It was sudden and unexpected. Obviously there are no rules on grief and how one should feel, or deal, with this life-changing event. She is an amazingly strong, courageous and gracious woman that I trust, love and am blessed to have in my life. After her love passed away, we talked...a lot. We visited and talked almost nightly and emailed. She knew that she had my support and love.
However, we both knew and understood that I simply could not understand the depth of what she was feeling. I have not been in her shoes. I didn't lose the love of my life and to be honest, I haven't had a 'love of my life', yet, in my life. So while I tried to provide some comfort, which I did do I think, it wasn't on the same level as the understanding from two other friends who had been, and were, in her shoes. They understood on a much deeper and more personal level.
I have awesome friends - like the one above - that support me, are willing to listen to me and I know I can reach out to them, which I try to do. But, like I noted in the above situation, they can't possibly fully understand what it is like to be adopted, in a difficult reunion situation and struggling to find my way through all of this. It doesn't make their support of me any less - just different.
Sally gets it. She gets the language, feelings, hopes, dreams, fears, wacky behavior, sadness, fantasies, troubles, challenges, reality and everything else 'adoption'. She gets it in a way that only (usually) someone involved in adoption would understand. I haven't had anyone in my life - ever - that understands in this way. It is healing beyond words. Being able to have real conversations about adoption, with someone that understands, is amazing. I feel like I'm finally making some movement in the right direction. On top of that, she's just a really awesome person – intuitive, compassionate, intelligent, nurturing and quite funny.
I'm just so blessed to have her in my life, again. To have 'home', again.
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Julia, Margie & the right words
I have been trying to find the right words to explain how and why all of this 'truth' and being 'real' brings me hope, right now, in terms of my adoption stuff. Last evening as I was browsing through some adoption blogs I hadn't been aware of, I came upon a young (adoptee) woman's writings. Her name is Julia.
Julia (now in her mid 20's) was born in Seoul, Korea and was adopted by a Jewish couple in New York, USA. Her thoughts on what it meant to her, to be adopted and to be adopted by white parents in a completely different culture than the one she was biologically tied to, are insightful, touching and honest. Sadly, Julia passed away on May 31st of this year, in Jerusalem, Israel, after fighting a tough battle with cancer.
While reading through her blog entries and watching some of Julia's memorial service that was held in Korea, I came upon a comment from a friend of Julia's. Actually, there were many comments by a woman named Margie. Admittedly I know very little about Julia and barely anything about Margie, but it's apparent that they were kindred spirits and had developed a meaningful connection and friendship. Margie, a self-titled 'Third Mom', is the mother of two Korean children - now teens - adopted from Korea.
So, as I was sifting through Julia's thoughts and pictures (she was stunning!), I came upon a comment left for Julia by Margie. I read it and immediately knew that Margie's words were exactly the ones that I was trying to convey, but couldn't - when I talked about 'being real' in my previous blogs and how the truth I'm finding gives me hope.
Now, I took these words and cannot remember exactly the context or blog they were in reference and reply to. But, I do know that they were regarding adoption and perhaps Julia's search for her truth.
I could have just posted the quote and words, but I wanted to share the story behind them - and that included Julia and Margie. Because, we all have a story. We are all so intricately connected in ways that we can never possibly fathom. We cannot possibly imagine or understand how our own stories will connect with others and lead us down other pathways that will bring more understanding into our lives and experiences.
I know, I know...so what are the words that Margie said that make so much sense to me right now? That touch my heart? That I find understanding in? (I will be delving deeper into these words in my next blog entry!) Here is what Margie said:
"I think there is something about looking reality straight in the eye that heals. It may not ease the pain, but it heals in a way that allows us to find ourselves in circumstances that should bring us to our knees. It takes strength to do this."
This is exactly it.
(Note: I've added Julia's blog and Margie's to my fave blog list on the right side of this page.)
Julia (now in her mid 20's) was born in Seoul, Korea and was adopted by a Jewish couple in New York, USA. Her thoughts on what it meant to her, to be adopted and to be adopted by white parents in a completely different culture than the one she was biologically tied to, are insightful, touching and honest. Sadly, Julia passed away on May 31st of this year, in Jerusalem, Israel, after fighting a tough battle with cancer.
While reading through her blog entries and watching some of Julia's memorial service that was held in Korea, I came upon a comment from a friend of Julia's. Actually, there were many comments by a woman named Margie. Admittedly I know very little about Julia and barely anything about Margie, but it's apparent that they were kindred spirits and had developed a meaningful connection and friendship. Margie, a self-titled 'Third Mom', is the mother of two Korean children - now teens - adopted from Korea.
So, as I was sifting through Julia's thoughts and pictures (she was stunning!), I came upon a comment left for Julia by Margie. I read it and immediately knew that Margie's words were exactly the ones that I was trying to convey, but couldn't - when I talked about 'being real' in my previous blogs and how the truth I'm finding gives me hope.
Now, I took these words and cannot remember exactly the context or blog they were in reference and reply to. But, I do know that they were regarding adoption and perhaps Julia's search for her truth.
I could have just posted the quote and words, but I wanted to share the story behind them - and that included Julia and Margie. Because, we all have a story. We are all so intricately connected in ways that we can never possibly fathom. We cannot possibly imagine or understand how our own stories will connect with others and lead us down other pathways that will bring more understanding into our lives and experiences.
I know, I know...so what are the words that Margie said that make so much sense to me right now? That touch my heart? That I find understanding in? (I will be delving deeper into these words in my next blog entry!) Here is what Margie said:
"I think there is something about looking reality straight in the eye that heals. It may not ease the pain, but it heals in a way that allows us to find ourselves in circumstances that should bring us to our knees. It takes strength to do this."
This is exactly it.
(Note: I've added Julia's blog and Margie's to my fave blog list on the right side of this page.)
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