Writing is, in a sense, a measure of time. I always begin with the date, and I always feel the same thing: look at time move. I often find that what really matters has nothing to do with results; it has to do with who I want to be as a human. My eyes see what they see and they often see lack. They bypass what is there in search of what I perceive is missing. That’s a waste of love and power. An exercise in futility.
I ask my Higher Power to remove the weapons of the need to be heard, understood and right from my clutches. Help me to see, accept and embody truth. The essence of your being.
As Mom has been released, what now?
Help me to value and care for the love you’ve placed in my life. Thank you for lessons learned; words not said; steps not taken. May my “yes” means yes and my “no” mean no.
I promised Mom I’d be smarter.
Faith & Roses 
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