Sensitive

I read an article the other day about the exploitation of children in the special needs community. Whether using them for a platform to push “kindness” or even to push for reform in accessibilities, how far is too far?

I ask myself this question frequently. Even though I use my son to promote advocacy, somedays I wonder how he may feel about all of it. He can’t really comprehend the depths of caregiving and insurance and inclusion. Can he? On some level, I believe he might. After all, it is his schedule that directs my life each day, not my own.

I must be intentional when I post a pic, or video.

I must be constant in my actions.

What are your thoughts on the fine line? How can we protect our miracles and at the same time raise them up high for others to try understand diversity? I welcome your thoughts.

To Whom It May Concern...

To whom it may concern, 2020 has not been the best.

We have seen the worst in folks, and our country in distress.

To whom it may concern, where do we go from here?

When what we want is hope, but are only offered fear.

To whom it may concern, I have found little to say;

It offends or it is irrelevant to the story of the day.

To whom it may concern, a better world I long for still.

Divisions to be united, and our people to heal.

To whom it may concern, I am not sure we’ll reach that goal.

Some hearts are just too broken, and our system certainly so.

To whom it may concern, my hoarse and tired voice cries out.

To continue the good fight, without losing heart or filled with doubt.

The year will soon be over, and to whom it may concern,

I pray the narrative changes, for there is still yet much to learn.

Extras

Being the mother of a totally g-tube dependent child comes with extras. Extra equipment, obviously. Extra learning about nutrition and drug cocktails to flush. That’s all cool, interesting and easy enough.

The part that sucks extra, is “syringe day”. When I say “syringe day” I am speaking of washing all the 3, 5, 10 and 60 ml syringes that I reuse daily to give meds. Boy do they stack up fast. I have been pretty laid back about washing these blasted things for 10 years but lately my friendship with syringes is on the decline. They never seem to go away. Currently I have one chili pot and two stainless steel mixing bowls full to the brim in need of a soak and a wash. Syringes are being too extra lately. lol

I’ll bet you have your own load of “whatever” that seems never ending. Laundry, bills, assignments in work and school, the list goes on. You name it. These extras can be overwhelming. But, when you can’t get rid of the load, then the next step is how to figure out how to balance and/or carry it.

So, maybe I will wash syringes later tonight when everyone is in bed, and maybe I won’t. It doesn’t make me a bad mother or wife either way. Some days you just have to put the load down or to the side. In my case, in almost all of the dishware.

I think during these crazy times in society and pandemic life, we have to allow maybe “extra” grace to ourselves. The syringes will still be there tomorrow. So will the soap. It will get done when it gets done.

Surrendering

This is a hard and almost diminished concept.

There is such business in our lives that we have this false illusion of control. Possession of how and which way life will move. Consuming, and not in a positive way.

It is only when we realize that we must surrender this concept that we have a chance at peace.

Surrender the racing thoughts in your head to allow yourself sleep. (Totally need to practice what I preach here)

Surrender your purpose for whatever circumstance you are battling, and realize that it may be better if it did not work out your way. (Not minimizing how critically hard this is… seriously)

Surrender, to allow yourself to heal from all the built up years of madness and hurt you hold onto. (Sometimes people do care, but we push them away when this is our trauma response)

Surrender.

It is not the absence of bravery or courage. I think it is the opposite. It is not a defiant act but a responsible one, for sanity’s sake.

My challenge, as many of you know lately, has been with chronic suffering. Not mine, but my child’s. You would think that would not be my problem to surrender. You would be incorrect. To be able to accept life’s next steps or open the book’s next chapter, is hard to imagine without me guiding the way. (I have to consistently and constantly surrender that notion.) No longer am I able to hold the wall up and fester the anxiety without it collapsing upon me. We carry one another’s burdens, like it or not.

Does this mean “surrender” is a fix-all? By no means.

Does this mean it is a step to heal, yes sir.

There is a magnitude of hurts and shames and guilts and frustrations living inside of us. Why do we allow them to flourish and our lives to be on pause while we try to take hold and control it all?

I fight. Do not get it twisted.

I try to determine each new day, that I will not yield to the swallowing of emotions.

I will surrender, but not to the depths. Only to free myself, rather than drown.

Reflect on yourself and examine what you are wrapped in. What you are holding onto. Do you want to be at constant war or do you want to relieve yourself of weariness?

Such a simple concept, such a HARD act.

We all need help doing this. Reminding ourselves that we are worth it. Reminding each other that control is not real. Circumstances base things. Reality is penetrating and raw. Getting the right people involved, the right meds, these are just the basics. This is the fight I speak of. The one worth investing in.

Seek out your surrender, friend.

Metaphors

The wind bit my skin. The sound of scratching surrounded me as I beheld the flight of the leaves. Summer is officially in hibernation. I remind myself it will return. How I will long for it until that day.

As it goes with mental health. The suffering involved with emotional ups and downs. Maybe some even silently. Swings are that as seasons change.

One is not “more” than the other. Though favored in some aspects some more than others, they are all equally validated. The elation. The depression. The coming in (the highs) of the tide as well as the going out (the lows).

My heart is stiff and I am insomniac right before my guy has a surgery. I take it all on heavy and hard early, so that I can be stoic the day of. I am living in the gray sky season for a while now. But it is needed. Just as the sunny one.

I say this to encourage the person out there that feels bad for feeling bad. I say this for the person who completely feels misunderstood. Remember that if you feel like you are just stuck, that these really are just momentary. They may feel eternal. Nothing of this world is though, is it?

Even though this is Graydon’s umpteenth (like seriously) surgery, it doesn’t get easier. And that is ok that I need to hide away for a bit.

Just as I HATE the cold weather, I hate feeling down. But I cling to the memory of blue skies and the sun kissing my skin. I cling to the return of joy after we make it through this hurdle.

To everything there is a season is not a foreign concept. Wise King Solomon even wrote of it.

This being said, hang in there. And if you are in a good spot right now, close your eyes and absorb all the beauty it holds. And if you aren’t, I feel ya. You are not alone. You can make it through.

Rainbows come after rain. Sun after storms. The leaves return when thawed from the snow. All things serve purpose. Learn from each one you go through.

I will be trying to as well.

Discussing death with my special boy

This week, my son’s birthday present went to Heaven. The only thing he asked for was a green frog to name Kermit. July to October…I suppose is better odds than we would have gotten with a goldfish.

It brought up some new emotions and questions that he has never been aware of prior to this event. We have lost loved ones and been to multiple funerals and graveyards, but nothing ever clicked.

Will I die? He asked me. (Super heavy hit to my PTSD Medical Mommy heart). It immediately started racing and I started going back there, to my memories, to those fears, still fresh. I could almost not breath.

Yes, my love. I said. We all die. It is part of life. That is why we have to make it the best life we can, ya know? I replied. Oh! Yes, ok. he said. But, I don’t want you and Daddy to die. I know buddy, I know. But this is not the end. We can always look to the sky and imagine Heaven. That is where our family members and friends have gone. I bet they are even watching Kermit for you! I don’t like dying, he says. I choke. I do not like it either. So lets just remember all the fun memories we shared and live each day showing love to one another.

Got it. He says.

My heart is collapsed now. I am already pleading with my tears to stay back. If he only knew the many times I have seen death, with him. If he only knew the sentiments I say, are harder for me to do. If he only knew that this talk is one that is so hard for me.

I am thankful for the fact that he has grown up so much that I can have discussions like this. That part makes me rejoice. But, there is always a dark corner in the back of my mind that is haunting when referred. I wish that he would out live us all. If he ran the world, it would be full of wonder, joy and empathy.

Death is heavy. Death is hard. Even if it is with a silly old Kermit frog.

Media Break

At every angle in our society we are hit with stories that the media feels are valid. I am confused about how they rank most things. While strolling through my news feed I am dumbfounded. It is as though there is nothing better out there to talk about than when so and so got offended or so and so got new boobs.

I am so over it.

If this is what we are filling our minds with, no wonder we are all nuts.

When I was younger we had to actually turn on the TV to find out what was going on. In order to make that news it must be a relevant story. The celebrity gossips had their own shows as well as the Jerry Springers.

It just grabs at my heart.

How we fill our minds affects everything.

I miss those days. The ones where books were always opened. The ones where people ignored political drama. The ones where we all weren’t at each others throats. And of course the ones that did not include my learning about the newest celebrity tattoo or mascara preference.

Relationship Repairs

Do you find yourself missing that person that used to to be essential in your life? For whatever reason, be it COVID, or conflict, you have a wounded relationship now?

There is more than one person that comes to mind when I reflect over this historically, nutty year and all the change it has brought.

In my opinion, more than ever before, we are all gathered to our own corners. To come out of our shell and reach out is limited. To be purposeful and intentional requires planning. An inconvenience or maybe even a foreign concept to some.

But, so what? We can do that. We have adapted to all the other hardballs thrown at us so far.

Maybe that person has just been waiting for you to text first. Maybe that person is having a harder time right now. You do not ever really know the battles that others face daily unless you are encouraging them along side in their battle. So, be the one. Reach out. Cards, texts, voice mails…these are all good ground breakers. Then plan a call, maybe a “masked” visit. Whatever way you can engage (safely of course), the benefit of the mending will certainly outweigh the heavy heart you have carried for so long.

Go on now, get to it.

Hold it in your Heart

My daughter brought home a 35 pound pumpkin tonight. 35 pounds ya’ll.

Smiling, she recalled that when she was younger, her and Sam used to compete to get the biggest pumpkin at the patch when we would all go as a family. I had forgotten that memory. Still fresh in her mind as a 20 year old college student, she holds it dear.

“I’ll bet he can’t top this one” she said.

It made my heart fill with joy. The simplicity of a pumpkin. Such fond thoughts from years passed. Almost a blur now. There is just something special about this time of year.

I hope you have your own pumpkin story to share. If not, now is a good time to make one. But I bet, like Bre does, if you are looking for the biggest pumpkin, you ain’t gonna beat her 35 pound one!

Transition

My tan is fading. The days do not beg for pool time or dinners cooked on the grill. The grass can get away with being mowed every 2 weeks. The smell in the air is changing. The feeling as it touches your skin. The warmth leaving, slowly. On our walks, we find leaves on the ground of red and yellow. As we gaze before us, the trees seem to be waving as though saying good bye to summer with their own signature of farewell.

I do not like cold weather, and by cold I mean under 70 degrees. But somehow the transition from summer to fall is by far my favorite time of the entire year. The idea that nature is technically dying makes me feel odd in celebrating its demise.. It is an art forms that our creator allows us to witness though, far grander than any form we could create.

I could relate the changing of seasons to the seasons of our lives of course. You were probably expecting such. Instead, I suggest you go outside.

Breathe.

His Legs...

We took a walk today.

He was excited to use “his legs”’.

He likes to choose which direction to go and the speed at which we go it. Do you know this is the first year in his life he has ever been able to breathe through a stroll around the block, using his legs? No stroller or adaptive bikes today. The time we set aside to walk together is treasured. He chooses a special toy to carry as he will have to tell them details about the surroundings and brag on his hard work, walking with Mom.

Smaller, but filled with much more courage, those little old legs of his are heavier than mine with braces up to the knee and ankle supports attached. His steps more difficult without the ease of bending. His need to impress his Daddy outweighing any physical challenge ahead. My heart wells with excitement for him. He is so amazing.

The gradual incline of the hill around the first corner makes him sigh. He doesn’t like hills. We have discussed the beauty of climbing them and how refreshing it is once the top is reached. We slow down. We lift our hands over our head and take deep breathes.

I look away because my eyes are flooded with the heaviest of emotions and pride as we reach the stop sign that has been our guiding light from the bottom of that hill. He smiles. Did you see that? He says. I applaud. I shout! Down hill from here big guy. He is beaming.

Down hill brings a new accomplished attitude as he tells me to race. His delight speeding up as we close in on the sight of our house. I beat you! He yells.

He did it.

My legs are wobbly Mom.

His spirit not.

I feel my chest heave with the greatest sensation of joy.

Remarkable strides. Remarkable drive. Remarkable…those legs.

Voices

Across the board, people are hurting. They strain to be heard. Passions are ignited and many are more than vocal about their movement.

My movement began years ago when I became burdened for the muted voices of the parents and caregivers in my community. It was intended to provoke. When presented with - “I’m Not Ok”, one would say, what is that supposed to mean? A perfect set up to to lay it all out and educate. Intentional aim right at the cause. These moments allowed me to validate the weary ones who were too tired to share their voices, as well as undergird new parents just entering into the journey.

When you wear the hat and preach the words, you get to hear and see everything, ugly and all. You get to collect the whole sum of emotion displayed from every direction. Opinions are always across the board. Amongst the crowds, there is the always the supportive, loving cheerleader. At the other end is the disapproving, callous bully. There are lots of bystanders who you are never sure where they stand at all. There are those people who agree with your cause, but do not want to get involved. There are those that support silently. There are those that oppose loudly. There are those who think it is all just bunk.

Whatever your passion is today, let me urge you to remember. Not everyone is going to understand. Many do not even want to. Some will follow. Others fizzle. Those you hoped would, may not take the time to invest. Kick in the gut…many will not even care. That does not mean they never will.

A doctor I once worked with told me, Heather, the squeaky wheel gets the oil. I hated that sentiment, but it is reality. In saying that, my hope is, you receive the message to not be silenced when presented with adversity or fear of failure, but to continue to be squeaky, regardless of whose voices are the loudest.

Empathy and endurance. Advocation and illumination. The fighting forces that must drive us despite who we perceive to be listening.

“Better thinking out loud than suffocating from frustration.

(“The upper lip must never tremble.”)

- Erik Pevernagie

A week...

Funny how much can change in a week. In a day, or hour even. Minute by minute we are graced with life yet ever evolving it is without our permission.

This time last week I was mad. I felt abandoned. On whatever truth it was based on, the defeat was intense and obscuring my purpose.

But to whom do I answer? Is the goal to touch one life or a trillion? It should certainly be the first. If that intention becomes distorted then the mission does as well.

There is much that you all are carrying. There is much help that needs to be given. There are many lives to encourage. We as humans forget though, that we are just that…human! We can not rid the world of all the ugly as a lone ranger. But, there is a twisted part of reality we live in now that validates only the ones with the most twitter followers or friends list and so on with social media. Just like the ads with all the super skinny models, much of this is unattainable, and done with ill intent anyway. So easily are our brains programmed into the belief that what we do is not good enough if it isn’t grand enough. It all fits into the same box. I found myself prey to this.

Not today.

I am only one imperfect human, but that is enough.

You and you and you are all immeasurably valuable. Created with and for your own purpose. If all I do is bring a smile to just one of you, then thank you Jesus, my job has been a success. Do not let the world’s visions of grandeur detour your pursuits either. One must be humble in order to learn. One must be willing to accept that many aren’t going to go with them on their walk. But if it is meant for you in all good intent and the will of the Creator shining light on the terrain, then you better get at it. Alone…why not?

But you really aren’t.

Somebody is always watching. Somebody needs you. You never know how you will impact another person. It is the effort that is invaluable. It is the grit and the content of your service that makes the difference. You don’t require an audiences approval, friend.

So chin up. You aren’t allowed to stop. It is ok if you are not ok. But don’t think for a minute that you are allowed to use that for an excuse to collapse. Use it as a tool to climb up on and while you are there, grab someone else’s hand.

One at a time.

Cash in the cow?

This week I have been grumbling.

Internal struggles.

Frustrations with the world.

It seems that the only time people react anymore to anything is if a statement is extreme or a comment is offensive. I ask, why does extremism have to be the only street available? When did we all get a detour?

So, this in turn, makes me mad. The irony.

From the actions of others, I have jailed myself in the” wanting to give up” cell. It has made me reevaluate goals and purpose. Who am reaching? Is anybody engaged?

Intentionality is what I seek. To raise eyebrows in ways that are neither of the earlier mentioned means of attraction. To spark empathy, compassion, the need to dig deeper and love others better. But I just don’t think right now anyone “gets it”. I must assume this to protect myself from the reality that society as a whole genuinely does not care. Is this the hard truth?

Anger, malice, greed, envy, the list could go on. Consuming. Enveloping. Devouring.

We are told to refute what we can by showing our fruit. Love, joy, patience, peace, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness and self-control. Anybody remember that? Outreach and relationships are imperative right now. We all need to feel heard, valued and appreciated for our uniqueness. Especially our community! It all started to lift up unheard cries.

Tired of listening?

Help me guys. Is it time to cash in the cow?

Saturdays

Saturday is the day I sit and write my blog each week. Sometimes it takes a few days to cultivate and other times my thoughts explode onto the paper like water flowing out of a faucet.

My pen and paper this week feel generic. It has been one of those weeks where you realize what day it is and freak out. So much to do, so little time, money, and so on.

I am applying grace to my wounds, and I might offer the same advice to you. Condemn the rush and exhaustion for a bit.

Enjoy your days. Especially those special Saturdays.

Til next week friends.

Viciousness

My aim is to put down on paper what I see and what I feel in the best and simplest way.

Ernest Hemingway

Ever sit and wonder what others think of you. If your friends really are your friends. Will you come out of this challenge on top or fold? Generalities, these are. But used to paint a picture of how one can allow them self to go crazy if not careful. You create either your own prison or garden to dwell in.

I am sure since you are human, you have arrived in both stations. It is a fair assessment to say that one should not unload at the first stop.

If we are being honest, I stay there way more than I should. Especially lately with isolation, and impersonal relationships. Seems like reality is destined to be bizarre for my immediate family from here on out. I have accepted this, really I have. But also this may contribute to much of the nonsense that goes on in my head. When I watch everyone else vacation, eat out together, wear no masks, enjoy life freely, I sigh thinking, sure must be nice. When I observe the lives of others not being impacted similarly in line with the magnitude mine has. I have an eye roll or two, not gonna lie. Sure, I could choose to do life that way too. But my medical PTSD grips me ever so tight these days. Seeing my kid blue and gray needing oxygen time and time again for years with respiratory illness and lung disease, (even still), makes me cautious. To not be able to count the number of hospital admissions that held nights of no sleep, needle sticks, treatments, tests, worries and heartache. Exhaustive prayers begging to keep my child alive. Makes me a bit less willing. Lots of tears there I should add. Lots to hold in ones heart. To hear death rates and all the loss breaks my ability to want to surface at all somedays.

Is this other peoples fault, my life events? Of course not. Should this make me resentful from all that I see happening as I am in a stand still? The right answer is no, but I do get that way. Should this make me bitter at the non-compliant world? Again, should be a no. However, I want to scream, and have and then some. This is not a blog carrying on about “woe is me”. Know that I am not trying to judge you. Of course in my mind, I conceive all sorts of things you think of me though. Hence, the vicious cycle.

As mothers, we hold the heavy all the time anyway. To throw another turnip in the truck makes the load tilt, wobble and nearly collapse. (If you can’t get the theory, consider it all a life analogy just referenced in a southern way.) And such is my outlook as of late. I am not supposed to covet or withhold joy for others. I am supposed to be ever strong and vigilant in this sorcery of life altering events. But guess what, I am not. Sometimes, I am quite angry. Throw sad, disappointed, and despaired in there while we are at it.

We are all frail and flawed humans at the end of each day. All given liberty to choose. You wear your mask or you don’t. You find yourself in my boat, or you don’t. If you look ever so closely, there is a silver lining hiding in plain sight. A reminder. It is ok to be this way. I even recall a book about it. You know, it’s ok to NOT be ok…

For those of you not in my boat, I ask that you become aware of the fact that others may be not as able as you. Reach out. It would be lovely to not always be the one doing the reaching. Also know that if I read a grumbling post written by you, I am gagging. Sorry.

Now for the rest of us, let yourself off the hook if the spin cycle decides to wash you out today. And I am speaking to myself here as well. These feelings and emotions may linger through tomorrow. Or even the next week. How can we expect the wounds of this world to heal if we do not validate our own and nurse them. Dispelling the viciousness and non-sense is a God job. It is beyond my scope of reconciling, and frankly I am too tired.

But I would like to get out of prison. There is no lock. I must remember, the garden is waiting.

Arthritis

I have arthritis. It sometimes can level me. Take some days to get back to norm.

A good metaphor for the shape of this big blue ball we all live in. It’s as though the world has this same illness. But it could use more than a few days for restoration.

The anger is consuming some, like arthritis, it is crippling their purpose. The politics. The societal issues. The never ending pandemic…so many items on the table to name. But, you get it.

There is reason for righteous anger amongst all of these separate entities. The one thing that is lacking though, is grace. Grace is offered when we really don’t deserve it. Grace is there to extend a value of love beyond a post or tweet. Grace is a reset we all need so desperately. It can envelope all the frustrations, just for a bit, long enough to stop and think. It pushes empathy up to the front of the line so it can be the leader. It is the calm breeze in the mornings that brushes our skin ever so gently as a reminder that we have a new day to begin again.

If only we would allow it to heal. Arthritic nations be gone. Incinerated with reconsiderations for our brothers and sisters everywhere. Love that covers the hurts. The peace that passes all understanding.

Courteous goodwill - Grace. I feel it may seem foreign to some. I feel it should be taught and given to all.

Control is an illusion

So many aspects of life we think we can control.

How foolish of us!

What a grand illusion “control” is.

I try to control how I raise my children and steer them in the direction as to what is right and wrong, but ultimately I do not know what the outcome will be. No control there. I try to control all the incoming germs and protect us all from the scary virus out there, but do I know if we are all ticking time bombs? What control?! I try to control the checkbook and manage the household but then a major incident occurs or something breaks that is bigger than the bank holds. Well, you get my point.

There is nothing wrong with the above management skills to stay on top of the daily comings and goings. It should be a priority in everyone’s life to raise their kids right, love on them. Balance the checkbook. Use the masks and sanitizers. But, we get it all twisted when it doesn’t go our way after all the effort made.

That’s life ya’ll.

Control is an illusion. And if you let it impact you in such a way that you are demolished when that becomes reality to you, then it is most certainly time to reassess your measures, reasonings and well, your pride.

We all are lucky to be here. Look at all the violence, corruption, hatred, and sickness that surrounds us on a daily basis. Do we have any control of that?! I wish.

So loosen those fists that are white knuckled from all the heavy lifting you are doing. All the loads you are carrying that aren’t really yours to bear. What good is any of that doing for you or your fellow brother, friend?

Have a little Poe to begin your week….

A Dream Within a Dream

BY EDGAR ALLAN POE

Take this kiss upon the brow!

And, in parting from you now,

Thus much let me avow —

You are not wrong, who deem

That my days have been a dream;

Yet if hope has flown away

In a night, or in a day,

In a vision, or in none,

Is it therefore the less gone? 

All that we see or seem

Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar

Of a surf-tormented shore,

And I hold within my hand

Grains of the golden sand —

How few! yet how they creep

Through my fingers to the deep,

While I weep — while I weep!

O God! Can I not grasp

Them with a tighter clasp?

O God! can I not save

One from the pitiless wave?

Is all that we see or seem

But a dream within a dream?

Are you listening?

Earlier tonight, my little said, with a heavy sigh, “Dad is not even listening to me!” I laughed and offered him my deepest condolences and understanding. (Imagine being his wife I thought)

But, are we listening though? Like on a broad, deeper level.

All the talk about school restarting, and masks and yadda yadda, got me wondering. What are the kids saying? What are they really thinking about all this mess? Have they grasped the depth of how our world has changed? Do they consider what it will be like for them if this becomes the norm as they enter into adolescence, teenage years and then adulthood? What are they saying?

Take time and ask. Like really sit down face to face and ask.

Some of you may not have a child old enough to know what’s up or is not cognitively aware of it all. Some of you may have non-verbal children that find it hard to explain their emotions. In any case friend, give them this reminder. Give all those kids these assurances…

They are valued and loved beyond measure. Overemphasize how special they are to your heart. Speak with grace and extend that beauty to their soul. Let them know that they are heard.

I want to listen. Don’t you?

Reviewing Miracles

If you stop and consider all that it takes to get here unharmed and presumably healthy, we all are pretty lucky.

Miraculous mortal folk.

But we don’t think like that do we? We consider not, the frailty of life. Only once we are put in the position where there is personal effect, do we ponder these things.

I pondered the beauty, the wonder and the miracle of it all this past week when my son turned 11. He never was considered a life that would thrive. A life just as valuable as a healthy person. Life frail, but full. Life that teaches others how to “live”.

I implore you to explore what you have taken for granted within your four walls. Are there those who have defied odds and you need to look up and say a thank you? Are you that person who has their own amazing story to tell?

Miracles exceed understanding, and for this, some do not believe in their value. The magic, the abundance in the joy it all brings….unexplainable. I choose to bathe my conscious in all its beauty. There is no need to rationalize, or analyze it. It has no propaganda. It doesn’t ask for recognition, hence the reason it should receive it.

So, I give to you, my review. There are no equations you can place “miracles” it in to force it to make sense. There is no end all explanation.

And you know what guys, we all need this reminder. The reminder that we do not hold all the answers. It is refreshing to see those magical stories and moments exist out there They are free for you to be blessed by. Take comfort in them. Let them nurture you where you lost hope.