Have you ever thought about the the words that mean the most to you? I have. After finishing a book, I typically spend my time thinking about the words that author wrote and how impactful they were. Typically- I will highlight these quotes or write them down. Sometimes, I never even go back to them. Recently, I have been going back to this one line that I read from Kristin Hannah's The Nightingale. "
“Wounds heal. Love lasts. We remain.” I love this quote. Different people interpret this quote different way. To me this quote means that we as people are able to endure despite the hardships that we face. The hurt that we cause ourselves and others is not the thing that breaks us. That the love we have for people doesn't fade- despite time- that it too doesn't break. That we too may heal despite our broken hearts. And that because of this we are able to remain.
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For the last few days, I have been in Minnesota for my grandmother's celebration of life service. She passed away in November, but we are gathered as a family to bury her ashes next to those of my grandfather. My grandmother passing away was a big shock for us. She was fine one day, diagnosed with several illnesses the next, and then she was gone.
Since then, not a day has gone by that I haven't thought about my time with my grandmother and with others. I think about my impact and how I view the world. It has been hard not to let the fear that I have of the unknown creep in; to try and stop the what-ifs that constantly plague my mind. Instead I try (unsuccessfully) to clear my mind and try to be unbothered. I often find myself looking back with fondness of the "simpler times". The times when I didn't have to worry about "real" responsibilities and just be content with the way life was happening. I find that I retell stories in my head or rewatch favorite movies because I know the endings- it is something that I can control, something that I can find solace in. I have tried to focus on small things that will bring me joy- like reading a book or having that first sip of coffee. One of my favorite things in the entire world is flowers. I love everything about them. The colors. Shapes. Sizes. Textures. Fragrances. The way they add a bit of happiness to the world around them. Here in Minnesota, I never remembered noticing the wildflowers each time I visited as I was growing up. In my memories, I remember tall pine trees, the bright sun reflecting off the pond, the sound of the rain as it trickled down the leaves. I remember the smell of our cabin, the sound of the marshmallows as they burned on the open fire, but never once did I remember anything involving the flowers. As I have walked up and down the pathway to our cabin and to the main road, I have considered everything going on in my life. I have gotten lost in my worries. It was in the middle of these thoughts that I saw the flowers tucked away behind other leaves. Flowers that shouldn't have been able to grow with the tangled mess of foliage that surrounded them, but sure enough- there they were. I was reminded of a passage from Luke 12:25-28. It talks about worry. It brings up the idea that wildflowers don't worry- they just grow and that God takes care of the rest. All you need to do is have faith. Maybe it's just me, but I was provided with a small sense of comfort in that moment. I know that I can't completely stop the worrying that is happening now and that has happened in the past, but I do know that at a certain point, I have to be okay that I can't control it. When that day will come- I don't know. but I do know that one day it will. In the meantime, I need to remember the wildflowers and worry like them. When I created this blog, I thought that the words would pour out of me. It seemed like the natural way to think about it since the words consistently swirl in my head. But, every time I sit down to write.... nothing. My mind becomes a barren wasteland. The blinking cursor on my screen mocks me. The voices of doubt begin to flood my mind making me think that I am in way over my head. I have to keep reminding myself that they are just words on a page. That I am just recording my thoughts and nothing more. Writing is such a daunting task. You are your most vulnerable self- laid bare for everyone to know your most private thoughts. Just words on a page. The chant echoes tirelessly in my mind. So here goes nothing. My first post. Hopefully, my second one can hold more substance than my first- but they are just words on a page, and I am just writing for me.
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