little girl found

You didn’t think I’d leave you hanging did you?

In this blog, our stories don’t end with being irreparably lost. In this blog, we find the light. We dig out. We move forward. And trust me when I say, I’ve been there. I’ve been where you are. Whether you’re flying high in the clouds and receiving all of life’s blessings or down in the pit of despair, I share ALL of those emotions with you. I really really do.

I’ve felt the cold ceramic tile of a lonely bathroom floor as my tears puddled underneath my cheek. I know the challenge of getting off that floor when I’d have rather just sunk into the concrete laid beneath. I can’t tell you that getting up is easy or quick. Hell, I can’t really tell you that the pain will ever end in its entirety but I can tell you that if you don’t get off the floor, you’ll never know what road that one solitary step will lead you down.

So here I am, in this strange and wild blogosphere again – just trying to find my voice. The journey is the reward. At least, that is what I tell myself. In telling my stories or retelling the stories I hear and have learned from, I hope to continue building up my fortress of peace. Because we can’t do it alone, can we? And what good is learning and growing if we don’t find some way to share that with the world? My world is smaller now, in a lot of ways. But I still feel the burn of a voice inside, telling me to call out to whoever will listen. And so I will shout. I will yell it for anyone who might be ready to here and perhaps, more importantly, for those who aren’t quite there yet.

Your wounds are not your worth. That’s not mine. I heard it somewhere. I don’t worry about original thought anymore or original content, for that matter. What matters is the gravity of the message. So, let me say it again – YOUR WOUNDS ARE NOT YOUR WORTH. Your battles help create the warrior inside you. Reach for resilience. Just try. And if you are not ready, remember this – today, this morning, and tomorrow when you awake – well, so far, that means you’ve had a 100% success rate at getting to the next day. And that, friend, is something!

We are not lost – we are on a journey. It is sometimes not quite clear where we’re headed but what is certain is that we can’t get there if we just sit still.

So, that is my message for this website, blog, treatise, whatever. No journey ever worth taking was paved with a simple sidewalk. There will mountains and valleys and sometimes you will go astray. Sometimes, you will feel like a little girl lost. But keep breathing…keep waking up every day…keep moving forward, just a little at a time and I promise that little girl lost will someday be found.

The Little Girl Found, William Blake
All the night in woe
Lyca's parents go
Over valleys deep,
While the deserts weep.

Tired and woe-begone,
Hoarse with making moan,
Arm in arm, seven days
They traced the desert ways.

Seven nights they sleep
Among shadows deep,
And dream they see their child
Starved in desert wild.

Pale through pathless ways
The fancied image strays,
Famished, weeping, weak,
With hollow piteous shriek.

Rising from unrest,
The trembling woman pressed
With feet of weary woe;
She could no further go.

In his arms he bore
Her, armed with sorrow sore;
Till before their way
A couching lion lay.

Turning back was vain:
Soon his heavy mane
Bore them to the ground,
Then he stalked around,

Smelling to his prey;
But their fears allay
When he licks their hands,
And silent by them stands.

They look upon his eyes,
Filled with deep surprise;
And wondering behold
A spirit armed in gold.

On his head a crown,
On his shoulders down
Flowed his golden hair.
Gone was all their care.

'Follow me,' he said;
'Weep not for the maid;
In my palace deep,
Lyca lies asleep.'

Then they followed
Where the vision led,
And saw their sleeping child
Among tigers wild.

To this day they dwell
In a lonely dell,
Nor fear the wolvish howl
Nor the lion's growl.

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