Seven years ago, I resumed blogging after a six-month hiatus.
When I say hiatus, I mean pretty much when I was dead.
Three and a half months of that 6-month break was in a coma,
and five and a half months were spent in the hospital recovering.
It's still amazing to me that I made it out alive.
If I am still and my mind is clear, I often think about those long
days in the hospital. I can even smell the room I lived in.
I think about the pain I felt, the emotional heartache,
I endured minute after painful minute.
I endured minute after painful minute.
I can see my bloody bandages and broken body and hear my wispy voice.
I cried a lot back then.
(Christian's hands in his blue compression garments, and me in brown)
I'm at a part in my life's story where
I can look back at some of my hard times and
be grateful for the progress I've made and the lessons I am learning.
I certainly have gained a different perspective on hope and endurance,
not to mention beauty and true happiness.
I'm at a part in my life's story where
I can look back at some of my hard times and
be grateful for the progress I've made and the lessons I am learning.
I certainly have gained a different perspective on hope and endurance,
not to mention beauty and true happiness.
near the relaxing fire, Mr. Nielson made,
I turned the pages with the same brittle
burned hands I never thought would work again.
In that moment, I felt a sense
of gratitude and love for my life, hands, and trials.
* * * *
burned hands I never thought would work again.
In that moment, I felt a sense
of gratitude and love for my life, hands, and trials.
* * * *
