Life has served me well. If I stop to count my blessings there are many. But it is the hurts that made me stumble and blows that hit hard that took my breath away.

 It was in those moments that I stopped to feel the pain, pause and take a deep breath. When brick by brick the walls around me crumbled and I lay exposed, that I opened my eyes to the beauty of the devastation around me. When the earth shattered and dust that arose quietly settled and I touch each raw wound to cringe in pain the true beauty of what life is about revealed it self.

So I will be gentle with my wounds. Kind to elements that bruised me. Let this be my prayer. To get softer with each pounding, lighter with each blow. Kinder to each insult and non resistant to  falling stone.

To stand up one day when the onslaught is done not as a crumbled ruin but a work of art that nature worked on. Let every crack, dip and smear tell it's own story of how nature in its fury sped past this way....