memory is a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose.

i'd spell disappointment if i didn't keep reminding myself that everything is in God's hands. i know He'll bring me through this stronger and better. take baby steps, not strides, if you want to go the distance. it is neither our prerogative to criticize nor hold an insular attitude so humbly accept what has been deemed copacetic and everything will be hunky-dory.

mending doesn’t equal to the fading of hurt. you get over it, pick yourself up and brush the dirt off that scraped knee but that doesn't mean you don't feel pain surging through like an uncontrollable wildfire on a rampage. once bitten, twice shy. but yet keep falling into that cyclical hell of a cement mixer. you'd get pretty jaded after awhile. no?

the silver lining, though, traces the blessings so bluntly and proves that these do indeed outshine the downsides and i can't deny the surfeit of bliss.

the leaves of the maple trees were turning to gold, to scarlet, to orange. And so the mountains looked as if they had been painted below the blue sky. And a wind blew, and when I rolled down the mountains, the leaves fell on me, fell like little orange blankets. i seemed to descend forever, as if i were a river twisting down that mountain. and i felt just joy and freedom and hope. and i have always thought that was the one pure and perfect moment of my life, a moment that showed me how the suffering and sorrow of life could be eclipsed. (John Shors)

a warm embrace and a hearty laugh chases the cold gloomy shadows of inertia away.

his tail wagged round like a windmill,
and not tick tock like a clock.