Hmm...let me think...It's difficult to articulate, but I'll try.

Sometimes I feel like I'm 5 years old and something has occurred which, in my immature mind, is so grossly unfair that I want to lie on the floor and beat my small hands and feet against the linoleum until they hurt more than the pain of the unfairness I am suffering. Until my cries of injustice are heard and recognized. Something must be done! It isn't fair, after all!

And other times it feels like I've lost something. Something important...like a kidney or a phone number or the ability to speak. And besides the bewildering sense of loss, there are red wavy undercurrents of frustration and anger. My brain chastising my ineptitude. You idiot! How could you lose something so important!? This, of course, is almost always accompanied by quivering self-doubt and the inevitable questions of self-worth.

There are moments...few, granted...when it is frighteningly reminiscent of the grief of death. Fleeting segments of desolation and despair. A gaping hole left ragged around the edges where once there was laughter...security...blind faith.

But then there are the times when I feel only warm tenderness and gentle sadness mixed with a hopeful certainty that "all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well". At those times I am convinced that I will be well. So shall we all be well.

"And what I recall of Sunday school was,that the more difficult something became,the more rewarding it was in the end."-- Edward Bloom, "Big Fish"

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