Season of Darkness; Spring of Hope
A few days or so ago, I followed the Instagram trend and posted my best 9 (technically 10) photos of 2017. I highlighted some wonderful moments, great accomplishments, and snippets of my continued journey to be my best self. I was challenged to select only a few memories of what moved me this year. I posted with joy, anxiously awaiting all the likes I'd get. I checked out the best of those I follow, also feeling their joy.
Then I remembered...the joy came from somewhere. I didn't want to use a reference from Pixar's Inside Out. Without spoiling the movie Joy was born from Sadness, in essence. I decided to hit up the interwebs. Much to my surprise, the return was littered (perhaps a bad choice) with biblical references. Okay. I'll play.
From my birthing experiences, I will say that I DO remember the pain; however, the joy I have experienced in being a mother outweighs the negative aspect of that process. But, I'll let John have that one. I have been thinking a lot about the pain and how it has yielded such joy. As time marches on the memories soften, but I'll never forget. I do feel that I owe to myself to find lessons in the reflection.
I have been writing a story for years; I'm finally putting pen to paper, so to speak. I love sharing the joy, but I don't think there's much weight in my victories without seeing the whole picture. Is it time? Maybe not today, but soon.