Masthead header

It happened yesterday. I saw it. I watched as the leaf gently released from the branch above me and slowly floated to the ground – the breeze carrying it around until it finally landed right at my feet.

Autumn fell upon us last week and for those of us living in Ontario, we are about to witness one of nature’s most beautiful transformations.  Over the course of the next month, as the air cools and the days shorten – right before the maple leaves fall – they will turn from their usual green to vibrant shades of red, orange and yellow…turning our landscape into the most spectacular masterpiece.

It’s what happens here before the depths of winter…before the cold falls upon us…before the world becomes still.

And there’s something to be learned from it all; that even nature knows when to let go.


I’ll always remember what it felt like to sit in that room, while the light flooded through the windows. I had my head in my hands, wondering how I got there. Wondering how I was losing someone that meant so much to me. The pain of it all made it hard to breathe and the weight of it all made it hard to move.

After years of friendship, for reasons no one could have predicted, things had just gotten complicated and hard. Too hard. People were getting hurt and integrity was being lost and tears were being shed. For a long time, we could feel the strain and we fought against the tension. We struggled to hold on to the friendship we had always known and slowly mourned the agony of watching it slip between our fingers. Until one day, it finally cracked under all the pressure. What had been a rare and beautiful friendship was now a thousand little pieces shattered on the floor…quite possibly beyond repair.

And so, we sat next each other one cold morning and honored our friendship the only way we knew how; by saying goodbye on our terms. The tears fell down our face and the grief filled every corner of the room…but there we were…in the Autumn of our friendship.

Knowing each other transformed us…changed us…altered us. But our friendship was also dying. Its time was coming to an end and we just couldn’t hold on any longer. So we had to let go and get caught in the wind and fall wherever we may.

Our time together was a really incredible season that created a truly radiant landscape in my life. But the winter that followed was hard. There’s a certain stillness that comes with absence and it can radiate through every part of your body. The presence of loss is very real. So you endure the desolate months as best as you can…moving on yet still knowing how very cold and quiet it all feels.


As I watched nature begin to unclench its fist, I was brought back to the resounding discomfort that often comes with letting go. The pain of watching something fall. I took a deep breath and let the memories flood over me. Winter is coming.

I bent down and picked up the leaf from the ground, noticing how beautiful it had become in the change. And that’s when I realized it; we often get so caught up thinking about winter, that we forget what Autumn is really about…


This incredible time of growth and renewal. A time when everything that was turns into everything it can be.  A time that could never exist if the trees weren’t willing release everything in their due time.

Nature doesn’t resist letting go because it’s afraid of the loss. Nature embraces letting go because it creates space for something new.

The winter comes and gives us time to sit through the absence, to find our bearings and to honour what was left behind. But nature doesn’t endure in the name of grief…it endures in the name of possibility.

And so it could be with life.

Sometimes we have to let go of the beauty we created with someone else…we have to breathe through the ache that their absence leaves behind…and we have to believe in nature’s greatest act of surrender; trusting that after every cold winter…always comes Spring.

Maybe once the snow melts, there will be a season of renewal for our friendship. Maybe not. But either way, once the leaves have fallen…something new always awaits.


  • Stephanie - September 27, 2016 - 7:58 am

    Beautiful Gen! Simply beautiful. I’m going through a time of letting go myself. This is a better way of looking at it and I think will really help me. Thank you!!ReplyCancel

There’s this moment when a relationship ends that we all must bear; a moment after the dust has settled and we’ve finally showered again. A moment when breathing seems possible and remembering seems bearable. It’s the moment when you pack up what isn’t yours and return it to its rightful owner.

If you’re lucky, you simply come home one day and find it sitting at your front door. If you’re not so lucky, you might end up awkwardly seeing that person while hoping like hell that they look worse off than you do. But it’s a moment that all ending relationships must go through.

Relationships, by their very nature, are an exchange. You give pieces of yourselves to each other and it never really occurs to you at the time that you might need to give them back. We trade possessions and vulnerabilities and we do our best to take care of them. You hand over the key to your apartment and the key to your heart, hoping that neither one of them gets left in shambles. But things don’t always work out and when it doesn’t, we fall in line and begin to proceed with the unwritten rule that comes with parting ways; the rule that includes giving stuff back.

It’s never an easy moment between two people; when the space and silence finally takes over. But it’s necessary, because in that cardboard box is more than just a favourite t-shirt and a couple of CDs. In that box, buried beneath all the stuff, is closure. You get handed back parts of yourself that you gave away…and in the most subtle ways, you begin to feel whole again.

But what happens when the closure doesn’t come? What happens when the things you need back don’t fit in a box on your front door step?

Then what?

A word here about forgiveness…

I don’t know why some people break the way that they do. I don’t know why some people come out of storms virtually unscathed, while others completely shatter. I just don’t know. But I do know this; regardless of what happens to us while we endure the whirlwind of pain that comes with letting go…the only way out of it is through this one word; forgiveness.

I know this because I’ve had to do it. I know this because I’m one of those people who shatter. I know this because I’ve sat there…aching…waiting for someone else to bring me the closure I thought I needed to move on. I know how much it hurts. I know what it’s like to want just one day without being drawn in by the pain. I know what it’s like to wonder why the rules didn’t apply to me.

But here’s the thing…

When the box you’re being handed stops being enough…when the apology stops being enough…when the final goodbye stops being enough…it means that the gaping hole inside of you is no longer about someone else. It means the sadness and the grief and the torment is no longer about losing them.

It means the person you really need to forgive is yourself.

I think throughout our lives, we form certain relationships with people – either through circumstance or through choice – that bring us face to face with the most insecure parts of ourselves. In that connection – for whatever reason – we see our own darkness…our own fears…our own unhealed wounds. And, I believe, when we are confronted with those people, we can unintentionally bring more than just ourselves into the relationship. We can bring the five year old in us that is desperately seeking our parent’s approval; we can bring the twelve year old in us that is being bullied at school; we can bring the twenty-one year old in us that he doesn’t love back.

We can bring our hurts with us. Hurts we didn’t even realize were still there.

And when those already hurt parts of our selves end up wounded again…the closure isn’t in what they need to give us…the closure is in what we need to let go of. Because you can wait for that person to set you free…but that person didn’t chain you up in the first place.

Because that person can’t say, “I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you I was proud of you when you were a little girl…my parents never said it to me either”

That person can’t say, “I’m sorry I made fun of you on the playground when we were young…I was hurting and hurting you made me feel less alone”

That person can’t say, “I’m sorry I was too afraid to tell you how much I cared…my feelings were pretty scary for me”

But you can say those things.

You can stare that beautiful soul of yours in the eyes and say, “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry I ever let you believe that you weren’t good enough.”

“I’m sorry that other people took their pain out on you”

“I’m sorry I didn’t stop you from projecting your own hurts onto someone who couldn’t fix them”

“I’m sorry for letting you use a present relationship to try to heal an old wound”

“I’m sorry I never gave you permission to feel hurt when you needed to”

“I’m sorry for holding you hostage to a past that you couldn’t change”

And then you forgive yourself.

You can forgive yourself.

For everything you couldn’t do and everything you couldn’t be.

Because it’s okay. It’s okay to let people in and to be sad when they leave. It’s okay to have pains that instantly take our breath away and it’s okay for them to heal. It’s okay to accept an apology that you weren’t given and it’s okay to give yourself grace even if someone else doesn’t. It’s okay to make mistakes and it’s okay to wish you had done something differently. It’s okay to want closure and it’s okay to also be afraid of it.

But it’s not okay to keep holding onto a box filled with stuff that isn’t yours.


  • Kristin Scheffert - June 14, 2016 - 10:37 am

    I sent this to my ex-husband this morning, Thank you.

    You broke me wide open with this.ReplyCancel

  • Teresa Gleason - June 14, 2016 - 11:54 am


  • Diana Reyers - June 14, 2016 - 2:06 pm

    This is very well articulated!! Thank you for this beautiful and effective piece of writing Genevieve V Georget xoxoReplyCancel

  • Isabelle Gagnon - June 14, 2016 - 2:38 pm

    That’s a wow…Merci Genevieve….ReplyCancel

  • Coreen McConaughy - June 14, 2016 - 5:17 pm

    Love you SO much!ReplyCancel

  • France Walsh - June 14, 2016 - 5:35 pm

    Wow. Great read. Thank you 🙂ReplyCancel

  • Randie 'Boydston' Sanders - June 14, 2016 - 6:24 pm

    Wow…crying all the tears Genevive.ReplyCancel

  • Debbie Laney - June 15, 2016 - 12:16 am
  • Kelly Evans - June 15, 2016 - 10:29 am

    What powerful words. It took me a long time (way longer than I wish it had) to get to this place in terms of a few relationships. Even now I sometimes slip back into old and damaging ways of thinking. This post was a welcome reminder.ReplyCancel

  • Cb Hughes - July 12, 2016 - 2:46 am

    Each time I read your work this quote always comes to mind: “In the midst of winter I finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer.” Albert Camus
    I am so looking forward to your book!ReplyCancel

  • Jane Dawson - August 1, 2016 - 4:52 pm

    I love you. That’s all I can say. This is exactly what I needed to read todayReplyCancel

  • Kathy Mallett Snyder - August 7, 2016 - 4:11 pm

    I’m glad I found you.ReplyCancel

It was an orange. That’s all. An orange.

It was an orange that a cute teenage boy handed me on the back of a tractor as we were making our way through the mountains of Belize.

“Try it”, he said “you’ll love it”.

I looked at the orange. I looked back at him. And he gave me one of those smiles that only cute teenage boys can. The kind that said “don’t worry…trust me on this one!”

It all started four days earlier when a group of strangers descended upon a gorgeous villa in the tiny town of Hopkins, Belize for the Reset Retreat. We arrived at all hours of the night and came from every different direction.

We were all there for different reasons…but the reasons didn’t really matter. What mattered was that we were there.

What mattered was that we had taken time off of work. We had dug into our savings accounts. We had left our spouses to single parent our children.

And while all of those things can feel a bit uncomfortable at the time…we did it. We did what needed to be done to bring us to this place. And that’s what mattered. Because, so often, we don’t do those things. So often, we know what we need in order to thrive…to feel healthy…to chase our dreams. But those things get buried under a pile of bills…of homework…of business assignments…until eventually, you’re left staring at a teenage boy – wondering if he’s trying to trick you into eating poisonous citrus fruit!

So that’s how I ended up with the orange; we were making our way through a grove and this boy picked it off the tree and threw it across to me…radiating with pride as we fell in love with the scenery.

But when he suggested I try the orange…I wasn’t so sure. I glanced over at one of the other girls with a perplexed expression on my face and wondered what to do next.

Normally, I would eat an orange if someone handed it to me.

But this orange didn’t look like it should be eaten. This orange was tough and all discoloured. This orange wasn’t really orange at all. Honestly – at first glance – I assumed the season had past and these were left over fruits, rotting on the tree.

I looked up at our guide again and he laughed under his breath. “I promise…they’re good!!” he assured me.

And as I sat there, peeling away at this orange in the middle of the Belizean jungle…I had to wonder; how many times had I judged myself the exact same way? How many times had I questioned my own internal goodness because I felt flawed on the outside? How many times did I worry more about showing the perfect outer layer than an inside that mattered?

The truth is…more times than I would like to admit.

Because somehow, I had come to believe that if I get the outside “right”…then no one will notice the inside.

I had come to believe that if I vacuum my house enough times a day…and ensure my hair looks decent…and put the right filter on my Instagram photos…and finish those cupcakes on time for the school party…and workout six times a week…and never eat anything with refined sugar in it…and and and…if I can just do all of that; then maybe no one will notice just how messy everything is on the inside.

And messy can feel scary for me. Because messy means admitting that I sometimes feel like the only person in the world who doesn’t have everything figured out. It means admitting that I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing most of the time. It means admitting that – even with 32,000 beautiful followers – I often struggle to feel like I belong. It means admitting that all I really want is a chocolate chip cookie and a nap instead of going for a run.

But admitting these things also made me wonder; if the quest for perfection is my new sickness…could peeling back the layers be the cure?

And we did a lot of that Belize. We did a lot of baring our souls and feeling exposed. We did a lot of truth telling and tear shedding. We did a lot of falling to our knees and raising our hands to the stars.

And you know what?

There was no judgment. There was no rejection. There was no advice on how to make the outside prettier.

Instead, there was a big pile of messy things in the middle of a room and a bunch of people who didn’t feel alone.

Also, I ate the best orange I’ve ever had in my life!

It dripped down my arms…the peel stained my finger nails…my hands were sticky…and it was perfect! It was a mess…and it was perfect.

And so it is with life.

Because life is messy. All of those struggles and feelings and insecurities are messy. Relationships are messy. Being human is messy. Working through it all is messy.

And it’s also perfect…in its own imperfect way.

But I realized that if I’m too busy trying to perfect the outside…then I miss the opportunity to be messy with other people. I miss the chance to throw my own stuff in the pile and witness what a beautiful mess it all creates. I miss the moment to peel back the layers and discover that I’m not alone.

I realized that I could have missed the best orange I’ve ever had in my life…


  • Kate Conway - March 25, 2016 - 12:51 am

    Thank you.ReplyCancel

  • Sue Joyce - March 25, 2016 - 1:21 am

    Beautifully told Genevieve!ReplyCancel

  • Paula Jolas Hawthorne - March 30, 2016 - 2:33 pm

    I feel so connected to this post! Beautiful!ReplyCancel

  • Julie Price - April 15, 2016 - 10:23 pm

    Deeply, freshly moving.ReplyCancel

  • Helen Fernald - June 2, 2016 - 10:23 pm

    You certainly capture our humanness with your beautifully written stories. I just read “We’re Not Alone” in ALIVE NOW. Brillant as well. Thanks and blessings, HelenReplyCancel

  • Julie Vaughan - July 20, 2016 - 8:51 pm

    I love your writings. They resound deeply with me…they keep me focused and sane and loved…thank you.ReplyCancel

  • Julie Beale Vaughan - July 21, 2016 - 12:50 am

    Thank you. I need this today..all day..until I go to sleep.ReplyCancel

I stood out in a field today near our house…just staring up at the sky.  A breeze blew across my face and tears rolled down my cheeks.

Something about this time of year makes me nostalgic.  This time of year makes me hurt deeper…feel heavier…ache longer.  As the snow begins to melt and the days get longer and the world prepares to rise again…I unknowingly find myself standing in my own deep winter; buried in memories of past grief and loss.

And it’s made me think a lot about rejection lately; about conflicts gone unresolved…relationships broken apart…memories left tainted.

I don’t try to find myself here…it just happens.  As surely as the sun rises…the wind always makes its way back and carries a piece of me with it.

I remember enduring my first real heartbreak just after university and feeling as though I would never be whole again.  As though the hurt would forever change who I was.  Of course – we bounce back.  We always bounce back.  The human spirit enables us to rise from the ashes and heal the broken pieces of ourselves.  We learn…we grow…we start to become the person we were always meant to be.  But some days – some seasons – past hurts just rush forward again and I find myself struck by the undying ache that often comes with saying goodbye.

I don’t sit well through the discomfort of rejection.  I try to negotiate it…I try to romanticize it…I try to rationalize it.  But I don’t sit through it.

Because it hurts.

Because rejection brings to the surface some of my deepest and darkest insecurities.  Because rejection opens me up to some of the scariest things I’ve ever believed about myself.  Because rejection leads me down a rabbit hole that I’ve spent my entire life trying to climb out of.

I used to beg God to take away my agony…my darkness…my deep wounds that never seemed to heal.  I used to plead with Him to bring me validation from the person who hurt me so that I could move on with life feeling like I was “enough” again.  I just needed Him to tell me how to make things right again…so I could be free from the shame of having made it all wrong.

Because that’s what rejection was for me; it was someone else holding the gun…while I handed them the bullets.

And it never once occurred to me that it didn’t have to be like that.

Until one day, it did.

Until one day, I stood in a field…unclenched my fist…and dropped the bullets on the ground.

Until one day, I decided to give myself the permission…the forgiveness…and the grace I had been waiting for all along.

Because here’s the thing…

I can’t control whether or not I’m “enough” for someone else. I can’t control whether or not I’m pretty enough or funny enough or smart enough or giving enough.

Most of all…I can’t control who stays and who walks away.

I can only love and care and breathe and place my armour gently on the ground for those who are standing in front of me.

And the moment I realized this, a strange thing happened; the hurting didn’t stop…the sting didn’t go away…the dull ache didn’t just drift with the wind.

But it did stop holding me hostage.

And instead, it began to act as a beautiful reminder…a reminder that bravery happened at the site of such lingering pain.

Because being a human is scary sometimes.  And in this life, filled with other scared humans and lots of scary uncertainty…it’s a true act of courage to open yourself up to another person and let yourself be seen.

So today, I will not run from it.  Today, I will sit with it.

Maybe we can converse.  Maybe we will write together.  Maybe it has a story to tell.

Maybe I will let it remind me that all roads…all pain…all hurt…led here.  To a beautiful place…with bullets on the ground…and grace blowing in the wind.


  • Kara Haushalter - March 8, 2016 - 2:36 am

    Oh, how I could echo your beautiful words. Blessings!ReplyCancel

  • Trisha LaCoste - March 8, 2016 - 2:43 am

    I love this. ❤️ReplyCancel

  • Lisa Dardin Tettimer - March 8, 2016 - 2:47 am


  • Lynda Roehl - March 8, 2016 - 2:49 am

    I can’t even explain how beautiful this is to me. It’s like you took my thoughts and my feelings and my fears and wrote them down for me to see even though this isn’t about me. Thank you so much for posting this <3ReplyCancel

  • Caroline Conley - March 8, 2016 - 2:56 am

    Beautifully writtenReplyCancel

  • Susan Dickson Houser - March 8, 2016 - 3:07 am

    “Because being a human is scary sometimes. And in this life, filled with other scared humans and lots of scary uncertainty…it’s a true act of courage to open yourself up to another person and let yourself be seen.” I feel like the universe is speaking to me. Last week stumbled upon a Ted talk by brene brown about vulnerability & today this. Ok, Ok…I’m listening. Wonderfully worded. Thank youReplyCancel

  • France Walsh - March 8, 2016 - 3:21 am

    I find myself in your words. What a lovely pen you have. Thanks for sharingReplyCancel

  • Cynthia Wakefield Rozeira - March 8, 2016 - 3:21 am

    I have been in that same spot. Learning to drop the bullets is hard work. That you for your bravery and sharing your story.ReplyCancel

  • Halyna Kinasevych - March 8, 2016 - 3:32 am

    We are not alone in these struggles. Thank you and bless you for reminding me of this. <3ReplyCancel

  • Judy Hampson - March 8, 2016 - 4:15 am

    So powerful!ReplyCancel

  • Katie Sullivan - March 8, 2016 - 5:13 am

    Love this. Such wisdom.ReplyCancel

  • carmen - March 8, 2016 - 10:39 am

    This post, this awesome amazing post, came at the most perfect of times. In the middle of reading One Way Love by Tullian Tchividjian and it occurred to me the other day, I do not have to continue punishing myself for those who have walked away and I do not have to punish myself for those who chose not to love me in a positive manner. The words you have written and shared today are like the final sign to let it go on the wind and move on with loving and respecting myself. Thank you.ReplyCancel

  • Barbara Womack - March 8, 2016 - 11:26 am

    Lovely imagery! I’m learning to “drop the bullets”…ReplyCancel

  • Lori Barlow Wright - March 8, 2016 - 12:08 pm

    Thank you for sharing your heart. This has been on my heart lately. I’ve tried to fill the words on my FB page, Be the light, yet can’t find the words. Thank you for saying just what I’ve felt! Your words and heart are beautiful. ❤️ReplyCancel

  • Kay Dodd Stokes - March 8, 2016 - 1:01 pm

    Love your writing. Another beautiful post. Thanks for sharing.ReplyCancel

  • Jazzmine Butler DeForest - March 8, 2016 - 3:03 pm

    You truly have a gift in writing. I love reading your words. They cut right to the heart.ReplyCancel

  • Brooke Silvester - March 9, 2016 - 4:21 am

    I wanted to reply on Facebook but since I can only follow you, it won’t let me. That’s driven me crazy more than once. I needed to be part of this conversation here; Not because I had anything significant to say, but because I needed to join in a sort of fellowship and be seen as a part of something instead of a silent and invisible participant. This is real. And we’re all in it. Thank you for sharing your heart.ReplyCancel

  • Moonless Tide - March 9, 2016 - 4:57 am

    Incredibly beautiful post. So much of what you wrote is relevant to the season that I am in right now in my life. Thank you for this.ReplyCancel

  • Wendi Wagner Burke - March 9, 2016 - 1:42 pm

    Oh my, this is so good. This is me.. Thank you, needed this today!ReplyCancel

  • Lisa Layfield Sherman - March 10, 2016 - 3:46 am

    Expressed so well…love this!ReplyCancel

I remember what it was like to stare out at streets that I had never seen before.  I was sitting in a giant leather chair…surrounded by over-sized oak furniture and baristas enthusiastically shouting out drink orders to a line up of patiently waiting coffee drinkers.  A few hours later, I would be heading to the airport and ultimately, back to my family in Ottawa.

It was a stifling hot Thursday afternoon in this moment and I had made my way through the streets of Portland until I found a place where my mind could settle.  Ten days earlier, I didn’t even know that I would be in Oregon…but a series of unexpected events had me buying a last minute plane ticket across the Continent to spend a week immersed in a world of creativity and possibility.

I had just spent over an hour in Powell’s Books…the only place I knew I wanted to visit when I found out I was traveling to Portland.  I thought that lingering among the rows and rows of beautiful books would distract my mind somehow…lure it away from the nagging feeling that I’d had over the last few days.  It was that same feeling that was keeping me from sleeping at night and that had me walking for an hour and half every morning while everyone else was still just opening their eyes.  I thought the books would help.  I thought that being away would help.  I thought that watching a city full of people I didn’t know would help.  But it didn’t.  So I surrendered to the heat…to my aching shoulders…and to my restless soul.  I found a place to put down my bags and – hopefully – also my thoughts.  A place to sort through the mess that had been created inside of me and attempt to bring some balance to this sense of unease.  That was then.

This is now…nearly four years later…still sorting through the aftermath…

Two days earlier, I had woken up before the sun.  There was dew that had settled all over everything and though jet-lagged and exhausted…I was ready for the day.  After finding some much needed coffee, I joined a room with sixty other creatives as we prepared for a shift in perspective…a shift in reality…a shift in ourselves.

Not more than twenty minutes later…a person that I didn’t know stood before me and uttered words that have haunted me ever since…

She stood silently at first…intensely.  She spun her ring around between her fingers…with a look in her eyes that told you that something important was about to happen next.  And then she said it…

“If no one has ever told you this before…please allow me to be the first; it is not your lot in life to struggle.”

It is NOT your lot in life to struggle.

The words knocked the wind right out of me.  I went to write them down…but my hands wouldn’t stop shaking.  I went to go talk to her…but the tears wouldn’t stop falling.

I never realized it – until that moment – but I did, in fact, believe it was my lot in life to struggle.  I didn’t consciously know it…but I had emotionally lived it.

I believed that we had to struggle for our happiness…struggle for our futures…and most of all, struggle for our relationships. I knew the struggle…I felt the struggle…I conquered the struggle.

But it is NOT your lot in life to struggle.

Because the truth is that life is not a struggle.  WE struggle.  We struggle with each other…we struggle with God…we struggle with ourselves.  We struggle for control…we struggle for validation…we struggle to be loved.  But life is not the struggle…we are.

If only we could stop.  If only we could let go.

Because guess what?

It’s okay.

It’s okay to be happy. It’s okay to just breathe. It’s okay to be loved.

It’s okay to let go.

When I think back to that Thursday afternoon, in those unfamiliar streets…I can still remember the feel of the air and the smell of the coffee.  I can still feel the ache in my shoulders and the pain in my heart.  I also remember taking a deep breath…closing my eyes…and thinking to myself…”she’s right”.

And she was right…

It is not my lot in life to struggle.

And it’s not yours either.

This is what I’m holding onto now…in the midst letting go.

photo credit //

  • Brandy Wells Garcia - February 16, 2016 - 2:39 am

    That is so good!ReplyCancel

  • Sara H Rohrbach - February 16, 2016 - 2:46 am

    This is so very, very true.ReplyCancel

  • Emilie Elizabeth Gagne - February 16, 2016 - 3:00 am

    Amen ❤️ & thanks.

    Love you xoReplyCancel

  • Eden and Her Happy - February 16, 2016 - 3:11 am

    It’s amazing every time you put words on paper!ReplyCancel

  • Jessica Hudson Reece - February 16, 2016 - 10:57 am

    Again, thank you for sharing your life… Your gift.ReplyCancel

  • Tricia Van Handel - February 16, 2016 - 11:24 am

    Words never rang truer! So true and so goodReplyCancel

  • Kathleen Gavagan-Weinzierl - February 16, 2016 - 12:13 pm

    Love this!!!ReplyCancel

  • Cindy Allen - February 16, 2016 - 4:57 pm
  • Sarah Hooper - February 16, 2016 - 8:37 pm

    Hard to read your post through tears.. I simply cannot express how amazingly talented you are in bringing truth to suffering people. Please never stop writing! It is fresh air we all need to breathe in!ReplyCancel

  • Dawn Alexander - February 17, 2016 - 12:41 am


  • Debbie Laney - February 17, 2016 - 8:13 pm

    your story is so familiar to me… I’m trying to learn to ” not struggle “ReplyCancel

  • Marie-Claude Charland - February 18, 2016 - 3:41 am

    Thank you. I’ve read it, heard beffore. But not really, it didn’t penetrate. Tonight, you are my lady with the ring.ReplyCancel

  • Robin - March 11, 2016 - 11:42 am

    I’ve been tearing down my layers of armor, and today as I stand for a few moments completely exposed I wondered how amazing this feels and how can I sustain this? The amazing universe hear my question and I was guided to your beautiful words. I feel like a baby bird learning to strengthen her wings so that she may take flight. And to read your beautiful words I feel the muscles strengthen so maybe today I will keep hat Amir on the flooram so grateful theReplyCancel