Perhaps for the first time,
There awakens in you
A sense of your own mortality.
May your heart rest in the grace of the gift
And you sense how you have been called
Inside the dream of this new destiny.
May you be gentle and loving,
Clear and sure.
May you trust in the unseen providence
That has chosen you all to be a family.
May you stand sure on your ground
And know that every grace you need
Will unfold before you
Like all the mornings of your life.
what are we afraid of? what do we nestle into when the trees are bare?
inquiry for today~ sometimes. yes. sometimes we love the raw bare winter. we feel the cold. and remember the windows filled with bright blooms.
I have no desire to fix my mind so it will not feel saddened by loss. I want to feel deeply, and whenever I am brokenhearted I emerge more compassionate. I think I allow myself to be brokenhearted more easily, knowing I won’t be irrevocably shattered. ~Sylvia Boorstein