Why is it that someone in this world has to experience such trauma before they can really know, I mean really and truly absolutely have any true concept of how "lucky" they are?
I keep coming back to this. I had no idea my life could be forever altered by becoming friends with and reading the blogs of woman who's loss and writings have truly touched me, my life, my perceptions, to the bottom-of-my-heart.
Sometimes I am in the middle of reading something particularly touching, particularly heartbreaking and I have to just close my computer and gather up what means the most to me and just hold them as close to me as a mother possibly can. Somehow life has taken on a bit of a different meaning to me. How lucky am I?
I am the luckiest woman alive.
I have goals and dreams and people in my world who will support me until they are met.
I have a husband I can rely on, respect, trust, and who I love from the very bottom of my heart.
I have three perfectly healthy, happy, beautiful and smart children who remind me every day of what beauty and love is really all about.
I have an outlet that calms my soul and is filled with friends who get that. Who make it what it is. Who make it why I love it so much.
I have some material things too....but nice as they are, they truly would be nothing without the things I listed above.
Just to mix things up...a sappy post to follow a silly one :)
(btw, there is no symbolic significance to what order these pics are in...I still cant figure out how to reorder them once they are loaded)