Don't Sweat the Small Stuff

“Don’t sweat the small stuff,” they say.  Who the fuck are “THEY” and what do they really know?  In Matthew 6, Jesus tells us not to worry about tomorrow because it brings its own worries, and to not even concern ourselves with what to eat or drink, what to wear, not even to worry about our own life, because He’s got us.  Yeah, I couldn’t do that when I was living in my car with my babies or on the streets because I couldn’t pay the high cost of living, or going hungry because I had to make one box of macaroni last a few days, have a thousand contacts in my phone but not one person I could really call if I needed it, that had no family to turn to in times of need,  or puking my guts out from the chemo eating my insides fighting a cancer that invaded my body, or being afraid  to go to sleep with an unlocked door, or walk around a corner or a dark alley to protect myself from being raped or attacked, or fight the fear when someone I love leaves they will come back to me.  Don’t sweat the small stuff, huh?  Life is hard, and it’s ALL made up of small stuff.

This is where I fail. I had a conversation last night about this very topic with a new friend who was trying to encourage me to look at the bigger picture and focus on that, and I still have a huge fucking lump in my throat this morning because though I can clearly see the big pretty amazing picture, I still sweat the small stuff. The big picture is make up of a billion tiny pixels, or a billion puzzle pieces, or a billion paint strokes. It doesn’t come out automatically whole or complete.

This is something my ex would constantly tell me - say I worried too much, that I cared too much, that I concerned myself too much.  “What will be will be, don’t worry and just go with the flow. Worrying about it won’t change a damned thing.” Well, he was right in the way that all that conern and worry never changed anything.  It didn’t stop the inevitable from happening. I worried for nothing.  What I feared would happen - happened, what I saw written on the walls became fulfilled, and all the small stuff I sweated because they kept getting ignored  - turned into the mountain that destroyed us. I never gave up – I tried to fight every fucking single SMALL thing that threatened us. I was a fool. I tried to fix the errors in the code of a program being written because I knew it wouldn’t work if the sequence of ones and zeros were out of line. But, hey, ‘Don’t sweat the small stuff,” they say.

I guess the bottom line is that I can’t stop sweating the small stuff because I don’t have enough faith in God, in myself, or in anyone else to take care of even my basic fundamental needs, much less the big picture.  This is more than likely the flaw that will keep me alone because it’s a scar that was created by a life long series of cuts. Man, it’s a beautiful concept, and one I wish with my whole heart I could embrace. But I’d be lying.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

We Don't Need More Sleep

https://www.facebook.com/MermaidMusings/

“No, we don’t need more sleep. It’s our souls that are tired, not our bodies. We need nature, we need magic, we need adventure, we need freedom, we need truth, we need stillness.  We don’t need more sleep, we need to wake up and live.” ~ Mermaid Musings

Still meditating on the amazing words spoken by Navy Seal Admiral McRaven in his commencement speech to the graduating class of 2014, inspiring us to make our beds as a first step to changing our world, this beautiful saying by Mermaid Musings compliments it well.  I agree, we don’t need more sleep, we need to wake up and live. Wow – that hits right into the center of my soul.

I sleep when I’m depressed, when I’m emotionally tired and worn out, when I’m feeling hopeless and afraid.  When I’m not wanting to deal with the stresses and pain of this world, I long to sleep and slip off into a land of fantasy and hope and magic. There’s nothing wrong with that, and perhaps at times in our life we need it, but not for too long, not for too often, and not as a way to avoid living our lives.

Life is hard, but it’s also good.  It’s tough, always, but so are we.  I have a friend who is a Navy Seal and he says that the easiest day was yesterday.  That is so true.  I’m not looking for easy, I’m hoping to find an inner strength inside that gives me the strength to conquer each day.  I start that by making my bed every morning, making and completing small goals throughout the day, working toward bigger goals for the week, the month, the year and the rest of my life.

Making goals and chasing them – that’s living.  Living isn’t dreaming – but chasing the dream.  Living is feeling everything – the good, the bad, the happy, the sexy, the heartache, the joy, the love, the pain, the rejection, the failure, and the success. I try not to deny any of it, because all those feelings and experiences make me who I am.

I don’t want to sleep my life away. I don’t want to miss an opportunity, an experience, or a moment because of fear or being too lazy to care.  Life is messy. It’s hard. None of us are perfect, but we are perfectly imperfect.  I’ve been through hell and have endured unimaginable horrors, but I survived and I overcame.  I love in spite of hate. I care in spite of indifference. I hope in spite of failure. I keep loving in spite of rejection.

We get one life. One.  I’ve been here forty-seven years and my tomorrow isn’t guaranteed. I don’t want to put off tomorrow what I can experience today. I don’t want to put my life on hold, hide, or sleep away biding my time until magic happens, because it never will.  The only magic we get in our lives is the magic we make, we pursue, and we imagine as we are living.  Not every day is going to be a good day, but I want to be alive in the midst of them.

I’ve lost so many people in my life that are not here anymore or not part of my life anymore – and loss hurts.  Change hurts. Love hurts.  But, I’d rather hurt that not feel anything. Because if I don’t feel the pain, I also don’t feel the love or the joy. I want to feel it all.

I’m in the beginning stages of falling in love right now. I’ve met a wonderful man who I admire and he inspires me so much every day to live.  I can’t guarantee our future, or if he will even be a part of it, but I’m open to see what happens and go where this path may lead.  I’ve met some great new friends who make my soul happy, who encourage me not by their words, but because they’re busy living their lives and pursuing their passions. I love people who are chasing their desires, setting goals for themselves, and doing what they love.  I’d rather be with someone who has nothing and struggling to achieve something, than be around someone who has everything but lack vision or a goal.  I love the dreamers and the visionaries, and people that are not afraid to risk their hearts.  I’ve missed that so much in life.

No, we don’t need more sleep – we need to wake up and live!

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Make Your Bed

https://binged.it/2JLKRSi

“Want to change the world? Start by making your bed every day.” ~Admiral William H. McRaven

I have been doing this for as long as I can remember.  The part in this particular section of the speech that stuck out to me is when the Admiral said, “The little things in life matter. If you can’t do the little things right, you can never do the big things right.”  Much like Luke 16:10 – “Whoever can be trusted with very little can also be trusted with much, and whoever is dishonest with the very little will also be dishonest with much.”

I live by this philosophy and try to be faithful in everything I do, because trust is important to me. I operate with a Spirit of Excellence, and it’s those things I truly value in others, trust being the first of those things. 

I don’t make my bed every morning because I have to, or because I feel the need. I make my bed every morning because it’s mine, I respect it, I want to take care of the things I possess, and it provides me with a sense of accomplishment, even if it’s a little mundane thing.  I want to be prepared for what’s coming next.  I want my bed ‘ready’ for me when it’s time for me to go to sleep.  It doesn’t magically make itself.  And yes, it will just get messed up again – and again – and again, but that’s no excuse NOT to make it up.  My body will get dirty again, and again, and again, but it’s my responsibility to wash it, feed it, clean it, exercise it, and take care of it.  If I don’t, it will not work properly. 

The reason making a bed is a small, yet huge important lesson, is because it’s an act that often no one but we ourselves can see.  It’s not a grand gesture out there for the world to notice to pat me on the back and say, ‘atta girl’.  It’s mundane, it’s simple, only something God and I know that I do, but that’s the point.  It’s a small thing – and the small things matter.  It’s the small things that make up our character, our will, our drive, and our integrity. 

So, make the bed, return the shopping cart to the proper area, pick up the piece of trash on the ground, open the door for others, let someone out at a busy intersection, reach up on the high shelf for the vertically challenged, call your parents, tell the people in your life you love them and appreciate them, say thank you, and be kind.  These things don’t make you weak or a fool for the cruel world to take advantage, on the contrary this is what makes someone tall in integrity and honor. 

As I get older, different things become important to me, and having friends and relationships with people of integrity is at the top of my list.  So, as the Admiral stated in his beautiful speech – make your bed every morning. Start off your day with a sense of accomplishment of having completed something, and then fill that day with other small successes.  Be a person of integrity. 

I made my bed, and then I got dressed and went to the gym and completed my work out. Now I’m writing my blog, and then headed off to work.  I’m already three success into the morning and I’m only getting started.  I’m changing my world, what about you?

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

The Graduate

Congratulations to Anthony Z. Smith, Class of 2019 Heritage High School, Palm Bay, Florida. 

You did it, Anthony!  You’ve exceeded your parents, brought a new generation to a higher level of education, and accomplished something that took most of your life to achieve.  It’s no simple feat, but remember you didn’t do it alone. Graduation isn’t only your dream, but the dream of your father, mother, grandparents, step parents, siblings, other family members and friends. While you’ve made many personal sacrifices to get there, so have many others in your life, but mostly your dad, to thank for your success.

YOU are Jon’s pride and joy. YOU are his greatest accomplishment. Your graduation was one of his dreams from the moment he found out you were on the way into this world. I’ve watched your father get up early to get you to school (yes, he missed a few mornings – that’s an understatement) and then cut his work day short to pick you up.  He made many sacrifices for you over, and over, and over, and over, and over again.  He didn’t miss a concert.  You were too busy on the stage to see the pride and hope that beamed from his eyes as he sat in the audience.  I’m sure many times he asked himself how he got so blessed to have you as a son.  He often beats himself up because he wished he could have given you more, but he gave you the best he had – his heart.  He chose you, and your brother, above all and everyone else.  That’s one of the reasons you are where you are – you had help getting there. Make sure you tell him you appreciate him.

BUT, my son (you will always be my son), YOU made the biggest impact to get to this point in your life. I’m so proud of you.  You always made your school work a priority. You set the goal, and you achieved it. You could have given up, like so many around you, but you didn’t, and for that you should be proud.  You did it! 

I know I’m not anyone significant or important in your life anymore, but I’m so proud of you. Tears of joy and love stream down my face as I write this blog post and anticipate watching you walk across that stage on Friday in your cap and gown. (Please tell me your dad got your cap and gown.)

This is the end of a big chapter in your life, the door of adolescence closing behind you as you walk into the realm of adulthood. Everything in your life is changing – everything. It’s time to put those childish things behind you and pick up your sword and fight in life, because, Son, that’s exactly what you will have to do in order to succeed.  You’re going to have to fight for everything.  It is now YOUR responsibility to make things happen. It’s no longer your Dad’s responsibility. While he may be there for you – this is your job now.  It’s YOUR obligation to make something of yourself, to get a job, to go to college, to provide for yourself, to shape the life you live.  The kind of man YOU are will now be determined by the choices YOU make. You are a handsome, smart, caring young man – and I just hope I have the honor and privilege to get to see you succeed in life, even if it’s from a distance.  I may not be in your everyday life now, but you will ALWAYS be my son, and always be in my heart.  I chose you, remember.  I still choose you. You may not be my son by birth, but you are my son by love, and I will always love you.

Be smart, Anthony. Be vigilant.  It’s time to put down the game controller and put on your mantle.  You have the ability to br better than you ever believed, to go further than you’ve ever dreamed, and do things more than you’ve ever imagined. Thank you for letting me be a part of your life these last three years. It has been an honor and privilege to know you, to love you, and now watch you graduate.

I love you, Anthony Z. Smith – Congratulations high school graduate!

~Tonya

Starting a New Chapter

Stories are made up of various chapters, and my life is my story.  It’s my own personal adventure. Some chapters are sad, some dark, some happy, some exciting, some expressing major triumphs, while others are filled with unimaginable pain and heartache.  That’s life. Everybody’s story is unique.  We may have some similarities, and our lifelines cross daily with others, but our stories are ours alone – it’s our autobiography.

We think we are the authors of our own stories, but we’re not, we are the main character – whether that be the protagonist or antagonist, we are the center - the gravitational force that everything within our stories revolve. While our character makes decisions, we don’t write our stories, we live them. We don’t control the direction of our tales no more than the author.  An author has the idea, knows the beginning and the end, knows key points and plans the intentions for the story, but until their fingers start tapping the keys or the pen starts scratching across the parchment, the story doesn’t really come alive, it’s only a concept.  When it does take flight – the story goes as destined, regardless of the will of the author or the characters within it.

Yet, we are editors.  We can polish our past chapters, even gloss over or try to hide bits of them, but it doesn’t change the real story that happened.  Once it’s happened, it’s happened and no matter what we do to change it, we can’t. Bad editing can ruin a good story – because if it’s not told properly as it was meant, it causes the plot lines in later chapters to unravel and expose an error, an omission, or a lie. A good editor knows not to mess with the integrity of past chapters. 

Having given that little lesson above, my post today is about starting a new chapter in my story.  Many things have changed in my life over the past few months.  I start a new job this morning.  I’m starting a new relationship with a beautiful new soul. I’m starting new friendships, changing my circle and surrounding myself with positive, energetic, and people with beautiful souls. Why – because I’ve had enough dark chapters. I want a good chapter, a successful one, and one filled with joy, laughter, love and success.  I want laughter instead of tears, butterflies in my stomach instead of a constant ache, and to fly. The last chapter was me breaking out of my cocoon and though battered and exhausted, I have a set of big, beautiful wings.  It’s time to fly.

My new job is going to provide an opportunity to change a lot of things for me, give me a little breathing room from the financial and emotional struggle I’ve been in the last few years.  It’s like a release valve, letting out the built up steam of stress and struggle. I’m looking forward to getting back to a point of enjoying life, not just surviving it, of getting back to doing to the things I love and enjoy. I’ve been doing many of them lately, but there are many more I’m ready to get back to as well.

I’ve met a new man. His name is Scott and he’s wonderful. I couldn’t have written him more perfect – for me - had I tried. Of course he’s not perfect, and like any good writer knows – there’s always flaws, hidden demons, and more depth of character than the introduction implies, but I’m looking forward to getting to know that depth.  So far – he’s hit every mark of my heroic fantasy man.  He has a good heart, he’s very caring, we have so much and so many things in common, and he’s someone I can be proud of, be encouraged by, and is not someone I need to rescue or feels they need to rescue me. I like him just like he is, and I feel he likes me the same. We’ve only just begun our chapter, have only had a couple dates, and have only shared a kiss, but I already feel very connected to him. He feels safe, and I feel safe around him. Someone who isn’t afraid of my past, who is ready to share my present, and have a great plan for the future. He is kind. He appears adventurous. He has goals for himself and his future and is working on achieving them. I believe I could easily love him, but most of all – I believe he could easily love me just like I am – that he could love me deeply like the way I’ve always wanted to be loved.

Only time will tell how this chapter reveals itself, but I’m really hoping it’s a good one. My story could use a good chapter. I want an adventurous chapter, a great love affair of life, and a fairy-tale romance. So, as I sit here and write this blog post, sipping on my coffee, and dreaming about the possibilities waiting for me, I smile.  No more looking back. Time to end the grief of what had been. It’s a new day, a new life, and new chapter. Let the journey begin.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Kissing Frogs

I love a good story. I always have.  I especially love a tale with a happy ending.  The more magical, the more epic, and the more fantastic – the better I love them. I’m a sucker for a hero’s tale. I have many heroes, from Wesley and his “As you wish,” to a Goonie that never says, “Die!”  The Author of Life sometimes creates great tales and woeful tragedies. I’m trying to figure out which one I’m living.

My first love was Superman.  Watching that mild-mannered, kind, gentle man rip his shirt open and become this brave savior - won my heart.  Batman was the ultimate misunderstood bad boy, and Jesus walked on water and defied death.  Within my personal tragic story, my soul cried out to be saved. But no savior swooped in and saved the day. I learned to save myself.

I am a Princess, and always have been, only I haven’t always been able to see it. What’s so funny is that I used to tell my brother’s a story about having been kidnapped and that someday my real parents, a king and queen, would one day find me, rescue me from my hell, and take me home.  The royal highnesses never came for me, but I learned to rescue myself. I learned to change my stars and create the life I wanted to live.

I’ve always believed in magic, believed in faith, believed in the supernatural – though I’ve never really seen any of those things manifest in reality.  I always made wishes when I closed my eyes. I always prayed to the God of the Universe. I always felt the presence of an angel in my darkest moments. I never got my miracles or displayed the magnificent power over science and nature. I never had a wish magically come true, but I learned to make wishes and dreams come true for myself through hard work and dedication. Perhaps that was the true miracle.

The stories of love are the best ones of all. I have a lot of love in my life. I love my children and grandbaby beyond expression. I love my god. I love my family, my friends, and my pets. I love my passions. I love humanity. I love myself most of all.  But, the one thing I haven’t been able to capture is that GREAT romantic, magnificent, fairy-tale love. That’s not true.  I had it once before, very briefly, but a Somalian bullet took that dream from me. I had my Prince, but I didn’t get my happily-ever-after. I feel like Rose on that floating door – forced to let go of my greatest love and promising to never let go of the dream we dreamt together. I never did. I lived those dreams James and I made together, because also like Rose – there was a life full of adventure waiting to be lived AFTER Jack/James.

Of course, within that life I promised to live, I’ve kissed a few frogs, but they never turned into my Prince. While each relationship I’ve had was beautiful in its own way, it was ever only PART of the dream, part of the story, and it only filled part of me. I had one of the best marriages of anyone I knew, full of love and respect – but no passion. I’ve had one of the hottest love affairs so full of passion I burned inside, but I did not have the love and respect. I’ve had romances and nightmares, but no happily-ever-after. With each one, I’ve learned more and more what I want and don’t want in my Prince, what I need and don’t need in my life, and what kind of crown I want to sit upon my own head.

I don’t need a superhero to save me. I don’t need a valiant warrior to rescue me. I don’t need a Prince to make my dreams and wishes come true. I want a partner that will love me just as I am and not want to change me. I want a friend that I can share all that I am and they not feel they need to fix me. I want a lover that wants to touch me, and kiss me, and hold me, and listen to my silly stories, and encourage me when I’m down, and push me when I want to give up, and comfort me when I’m scared, protect me when I’m in danger, and be someone I can count on, trust, and not be afraid to give my whole heart.

All the fairy tales and epic fantasies tell you about the journey that leads up to kissing frogs and finding a Prince.  What about when you find one?  What happens next? I don’t know that part of the story. I’m afraid – because I want the happy-ever-after – but I’ve never seen it. Its standing right in front of me, but my hands literally shake when I dare to even think if it’s possible – for me. I think it must be a mistake. I’m never the Princess that catches the Prince and gets to keep him. I’ve always been too much or not enough. Too soft or too hard, but never just right. There’s always been big bad wolves in sheep’s clothing coming to blow down every house I try to build.  But, could the glass slipper really fit this time? Could his kiss break the curse of death from my poisoned lips?

If I’ve learned anything from all my fantasy and fairy tales, and stories of superheroes, is that my answer isn’t going to come from someone else. My happy-ever-after is something I’m going to have to choose for myself. I’m going to have to believe in it, trust in it, and grab it with all my soul and strength.  Just as I rescued myself, and saved myself, and believed in myself, and loved myself – I will have to choose this too. I’m afraid because I’ve fallen and failed so many times before and am riddled with their scars and filled with their pain when I close my eyes.

I could fail again. But, if I do – I know how to pick myself back up.  I’ve recently kissed a frog, and he’s become a Prince. I’ve been rubbing my eyes, wondering if he’s real or just an illusion. Only time will tell and only the Author knows how the whole story truly ends. This is a new chapter. I hope it’s a good one.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Life after Heartbreak

In the moment I can’t breathe and my sun has disappeared behind endless clouds and acid rain, tumultuous thunder, and incessant wind.  I hold tightly to myself, clasping my heart with all my strength to hold together all the shattered pieces.  I’m lost.  The storm has destroyed everything around me and I recognize nothing anymore. All I have left are pictures and memories, and even some of them are destroyed. There are no arms to hold me. There are no heroes to help me.  There are no words to comfort me. Only pain.

But the storm doesn’t last forever. 

The wind calms, the lighting ceases, and thunder’s rumble wanes in the distance. I lift my face toward the gray skies.  The gentle rain washes away my tears and I open my mouth letting the refreshing drops land on my parched tongue.  I loosen my fists and unwrap my arms, stand to my feet, and lift my hands. I close my eyes and scream into the heavens until my throat is hoarse and I can scream no more.   

Then I breathe.

I breathe again.

I listen to my heartbeat.

I breathe again.

I listen to the last of the rain drops fall onto the earth.

I breathe again.

I listen to the warm wind and feel it rush over me, drying tears from my face.

I breathe again.

I feel the warmth and see the red behind my closed eyelids as the sun parts the clouds and washes over me.

I breathe again.

I hear birdsong.

I breathe again. 

I hear waves crashing against the shore.

I breathe again.

I open my eyes and see a sailboat in the distance.

I breathe again, this time faster. 

I step into the water, it’s calling me deeper. 

I breathe again.

I dive beneath the break and its commanding waves to surface on the other side. The sailboat is closer.

I breathe again as I swim.

I approach the boat, but see no way to climb aboard, until a hand reaches down towards me.  I look back towards the shore and see the remnants of the storm behind it and a hard lump forms in my throat. But, I turn away and grab the hand and exhale as I’m pulled aboard.

I smile.

I don’t know where I’m going, or what journey I am on, I just know I can never go back to where I was before.

There is life after heartbreak, and living to be done, and I breathe.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Beautiful Magic

I love this picture.  I love all the beautiful colors in this butterflies.  I love butterflies. Even more than the picture, I love the message.  EVERY SINGLE WORD.

I think the most beautiful thing about a human being is how flawed we all are to our very core.  We try so hard to be perfect, to be smart, to be beautiful, to try and not make a mistake, yet we don’t realize that our perfection comes from our imperfect flaws. It comes in those things about us that show we are damaged, we are defective, we are weak, and we are vulnerable – yet we keep trying, we keep flapping our wings.  If we go around lying to ourselves that we don’t need anyone, or anything, or any connection in any way - THAT is what makes our flaws our faults.  We are human. We were created as social beings to connect on a physical, intellectual, emotional and spiritual level.  When we deny those connections, we deny our very purpose.  It’s a lie!  When we tell people we don’t want a relationship, we don’t want friendships, we don’t want a soul mate, a partner, a friend, or a lover – we are liars! We were made to connect to God, to the earth, and to each other. We were not born to be isolated, but joined together. Our pain and our fear is what deceives us and convinces us we don’t need anyone else or that we are not good enough, or perfect enough.  Celebrate your flaws – because our flaws show our true colors.  How we respond to failure, to pain, to heartache, to insult, to injury, to the fucking bullshit life throws at us is what truly defines us.  Our flaws make us strong or weak, moral or immoral, filled with love or hate.  We rise and fall because of our flaws.

Another thing that I find beautiful about the human condition is our quirky nature.  Stop being stiff, stop trying to conform and play a part.  YOU ARE NOT what you pretend to be.  No matter how much you try, you’re not who you pretend.  You are who you are when no one else is around and sees you – yet that is often the BEST of you.  It’s the You that dances freely and sings out loud to the music that moves your soul.  It’s the You that is playful and karate chops the imaginary bad guys.  It’s the You that is free, and imaginative, and fun, and quirky! Yet, because of fear of rejection and judgment we often hide our true quirky selves from the world.  Want to see someone really free?  Those are the people who are not afraid to be themselves no matter where they happen to stand or sit. They let their quirky shine because they’ve come to appreciate the things in life that make a person happy – being free.  Freedom isn’t being alone – it’s being uninhibited.  I see a lot of people all looking like each other, talking like each other, dressing like each other – they are clones of one another and bound tightly by their fear and insecurities.  A young punk – plays the part of a thug – but he just wants to be loved but too scared, too rejected to be himself, so he hides behind the outfits, the language, the rebellion and the disrespect.  But, take a step back and look at them again – this time seeing how desperately they cling to who makes them feel they belong.  The more they scream they don’t care – the more in the night they scream inside to be loved and to be wanted.  They’re bound – and can’t be their quirky self. My heart breaks for them. I wish I could open their hearts and pour that freedom right in – but that’s not how it works.  They have break their own chains of bondage.

That leads me into the next beautiful thing about the human condition – our uniqueness.  We may have a lot of similarities, we are all unique.  There is no one else like us.  We have our own DNA, our own personality, our own dreams.  We see only ONE life out our eyes.  While we may focus on others, everything in our life is from OUR POV.  I can’t experience someone else’s life. I can imagine, and try to put myself in someone else’s shoes, but I was born in this body, with this soul, and this mind and everything I see, feel, touch and experience is through HER point of view. Sure, I can get mad and think life isn’t fair I didn’t get to have someone else’s life, someone else’s parents, someone else’s family, someone else’s opportunities, etc.  NOPE… I was born Tonya – and only TONYA is who I can be.  There is no other ME.

I used to think I needed to save the world to save my own soul, to feel worthy of being a human being.  My life at times has been a living hell and I’ve endured things I would never wish on my worst enemy, but it’s the life I have and was given. I have responsibility to that woman – to love her, to protect her, to strengthen her, to keep her healthy, to guide her and to let her be who she was meant to be.  I can look at her as a victim – or I can focus on her potential.  I have a great destiny, a beautiful testimony.  I LOVE that woman in the mirror.  I LOVE her for all her unique beauty. I LOVE her soul, her will, her determination, her strength, her ability to pick herself back up after she’s been knocked down, rejected, unloved, and unwanted.  She’s amazingly unique.  I will never know another like her.

Beauty has nothing to do with having a pretty face, a nice body, or a hefty bank account, a degree, an award, status or rank.  Beauty is what’s inside.  Beauty is love, kindness, compassion, courage, determination, diligence, honesty, patience.  There are many pretty plastic people filled with ugly souls.  Beauty is how you treat others AND how you treat yourself. 

Knowing all these things, and being unafraid to embrace them is the magic that binds them all together.    

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray