I am sitting in a hotel in Philadelphia, happy to have internet access once again. (If there’s not a support group for this addiction, there should be).
Here are a few random lines that I made note of because they moved me.
I’ve come back. Again and again, I’ve come back.
We huddled together, my sister and I, knowing that I am going to die.
Because I have a season…
One of the exercises we did was to look at a picture of a flower and write whatever comes to mind. I chose a poppy and here’s what I wrote. I’m no poet (and keep in mind that we had 5 minutes to write, without thinking about it!), but here it is, for what it’s worth.
mother of young daughters,
friend to her bosom buddies.
Theresa, feisty, determined, opinionated, concerned, talented, bold, loved.
I carry Theresa and the other women that have gone from my life, not as a burden,
but as internal companions; reassurance that I can follow on their path and that my family will be OK and carry on.
Theresa, Carol, Sue.
These sisters of my heart will always be part of me,
And their examples continue to guide me on my journey.
I feel their love and strength as I carry them with appreciation for all they brought into my life.
What I'm grateful for today: That I am not alone.
The prodigal son returns in: 7 days