Somehow

When I looked back, after a while, the story I had carried had faded. It was the subtler, sometimes painfully subtle story beyond the surface that kept my attention.

It was the faint memory of all the times I had managed to allow a quieting,  just enough to hear the quiet prayer spoken from my own heart — somewhere long ago.

It was each moment I had allowed my heart to remain open, even though I was sure I didn’t know how to continue on, that had woven a more beautiful story — somehow.