When I look into their faces as I read them the poem, I still see the young man (who was almost constantly in a cast of some sort) sitting in a middle school classroom. I see his energy and exuberance in their young and promising eyes, and my heart breaks again… and again… and again.
I share so much of my life with you all in this blog. I decided it was time for you to meet my husband and hear our story.
November is the month in between.
First it was the month that came before; then, it was the month that came after.
Yet, November is the month of thanks.
How do I say thank you for the blessing of broken? I am learning.
I was asked recently to write a one page summary of my testimony. Most testimonies involve a dramatic moment of change. This is not that story. This is the story of a planted seed that was watered and nurtured. It is the story of how I have grown, bloomed, withered, grown, and bloomed again.