It matters not that the binding I am cutting away is made of sheets from the bed you were born in. It matters not that they hold scented memories of when you were a wife, a child, a bride. It matters not who put them there, including yourself from a passive rolling over and over and over again and again, each time biting your tongue saying nothing, letting it go. Letting yourself become smaller, smaller, invisible, and unseen.
Thankful for Truth even when it is hard to hear it!!!
Wow! Trusting TRUTH.
Holding this with an open spirit.
This piece held me this week. Oh how truth sets us free and what it means to face it.