A Private Winter

Suffering is an emblem of learning, a quiet recital of lessons earned. It is an omen of what is yet to come—a corridor lined with designer scars not yet seen, stitched together by faith. To have faith, you must trust. And to trust, you must accept whatever ride you’re on—the wounds, the scars, the ribbons of pain that slip in whether the doors are open or closed, leaving their marks behind.
You must learn to value your scars, assign them a worth, rather than dwell on their constant intrusion. Keep moving forward. Stop worrying. Let it go. Run wild. Let out your loudest roller-coaster scream. Breathe.
Find the root of the wound. With your best scissors in hand, cut it clean—then sew it back together. Yes, easier said than done. I know. But you are shaping blessings. Tomorrow, you will be healed. One day, you’ll tell the story—how you overcame it all, how the Man Upstairs had a hand in it.
Life lessons.

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