Choices.

I sit on the Blue Beauty. Far end, closest to the sliding glass doors and the sun. Always drawn to the sun…the warmth; the light. The house is quiet. Except for the critters I love and without whom, our home would be too quiet; and clean. Evidence of golden retriever hair and dirt-outline paw prints on blue confirm Jack’s favorite nighttime sleeping spot. I gave up weeks ago trying to keep him off.
Morning; time to contemplate; write; pray; sulk; repent; listen. Forgive. The daily struggle of fighting the it’s all about me is tiring. Out of sheer exhaustion, I surrender me and healing begins; the flog clears a bit. Like the dust and fur dancing in the sunbeam laid out across the wood floor, names, faces, hurts, glide across my thoughts. Clarity. Alongside the detail of the fireplace guard I see the need for compassion and forgiveness. The need to just let it go. Not to be stepped on and muddied again, but to show grace. As I have been shown.
On the treadmill this morning, ear buds hanging down around our necks, music forgotten and sharing embraced, the need…the longing, to hear and to speak. Of course...not being able to see it until now…not wanting to; needing to hear and see we are not alone; not the only one.
Reminded that we all have a story…pain…need. We are shaped by it. Held back by it. Consumed by it. Suffocated by it. Freed by it.
Grace. Giving and receiving. My choice.

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