Endurance; Survival

There is a lot of pain in our collective history. For many of us, there is a lot of pain in our individual histories as well. But no matter how deeply we bury it, how much we would like to pretend it didn’t happen, that will not make it go away...

Only later did I notice that one tiny tree had been planted so close to the playground’s fence that its narrow branches had become entangled in the mesh. Would it ever grow to independent maturity like the other trees?

Despite its violent and threatening nature, the flood is not just an enemy to be overcome or obliterated. It’s the very vehicle that pushes and elevates the ark to greater heights . . .

I tapped into a part of myself that’s generally under wraps. Mummified, really. This part of me, in case you’re wondering, is my integrity. My authenticity. Not that I’ve been living a lie, but I haven’t been so honest with the world, not even with myself...

As I searched deep within myself, I realized that although logically I was okay with my life, my heart was in turmoil. There was a part of me that was angry, sad and anguished. My mind believed. My mind had faith. But my heart ached . . .

I believe. I have to believe. If I don’t believe, I am left with nothing. I believe, because how can I not?

She has a sign on her wall, much like The Writing on Wall saying (as she’s praying): This too shall pass

I’m leaving Montreal today for the umpteenth time. I’ve made this trip many more times than I can count. But today is different. Today is the first time I’ve left knowing that I won’t be coming back . . .

The daffodils that were planted in the hard-packed dirt at the base of the palm tree, those that are trampled on year after year, continue to break through the hard soil and proudly sprout their yellow blooms . . .

When I became sick (diagnosed with chronic lymphocytic leukemia), I had a choice. I could cry and become depressed and spend a lot of time in bed, or I could live, really live . . .