My Supercoach explained to me: time in the valley of hardship and tears is but a brief moment as you travel to the mountaintop. Look up and see the towering peaks. They call out to you, “Do not be slowed in your travel by your tears, we are waiting for you.”
I was wondering if there was a person who pushed the buttons and pulled the levers in my life. I had a better thought; what about a person who set a program in place which solved unlimited ‘What ifs’ in my life. I’m sure you’ll agree, it would be labor-saving.
I love meditative prayer. It’s a place where I keep company with nobility.
I understand when I share the blessings given me with others, I become part of the abundance of the universe. In the measure in which I give, it is given to me. The universal principle is worked on a ‘give and receive’ basis and no human has ever outgiven the universe.
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I know now why the Caged Bird Sings – Maya Angelou
One evening after a very heated argument with my daughter; anger in her eyes she turned to me and said, “Happiness comes from within, you create your own happiness. Get your shit together. You have to love yourself before you can possibly love anyone. Look at all your failed relationships; they didn’t last because you can’t even love yourself”!
After many tears in my room, it got me thinking, she was right. How could I possibly move on with my life if there was so much inner hate? I made a decision then; I would make a concerted effort to work on my life and my self-happiness. There were places I knew exactly where I needed to start.
Life returned to a sense of normality, which after two months was turned completely upside down.
It happened when the husband awoke at two in the morning to find he was alone in bed. He called out softly to his wife and on getting no response; he got up and made his way through the house and on reaching the lounge he heard soft sounds like crying coming from behind the closed door of the study. He tapped on the door and made his way though. His wife was curled up on the big easy chair weeping. He reached down to her small, almost frail body and without a word, his big arms enfolded her and he gently lifted her off the chair and sitting in the chair he moved her onto his lap as he would have done with the smallest of his children.
Wednesday morning 4.30 am, I lay awake knowing that today I will scatter my son’s ashes.
I force myself out of bed; dawn is breaking and I go out into the garden, where I laid my son’s ashes some weeks ago. Still in my pajamas, I lift my son’s ashes, in a tiny box, from under a rose bush and take them inside, placing them on the table. I stand, there, alone and dazed, not even able to think. There’s no one that I can turn to, no one that can hold me and comfort my shocked soul. Tears are falling, but I’m not crying.