There were times when the stories around me were complex. I knew the only hope was a miracle — often more than one. And so I vowed to clear my own mind and heart and become one with the quiet prayer that had carried me that far.
I vowed to hold the remaining bits of trauma in my heart — knowing they would be transforned into healing words. And I held each new moment as it unfolded.
Words pointed back to miracles past, comforting pieces of my heart and connecting me in each moment to a timeless, unshakeable higher me. But my prayer had no words.
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