Those who lived through it understand

Today is a day for remembering all the times, stories, and hell we've gone through. Remembering the struggles faced, the obstacles overcome and the failures. We were there, together and each of you know who you are. Different people at different times but always fighting. That's always been the thing I respect about you girls, beat to shit and tough as hell. I know most of you never feel that way but the hell you've walked through on earth has made you strong. Don't ever forget it, I won't. I can't really, it never ceases to amaze me when I consider what you've been through, that you're able to stand at all. You all think I'm strong but that's crap, you guys are the strong ones. I only lend an ear and a hand when you need it but that doesn't make me stronger than you. I know most of you will never read this, most of you I've lost contact with but I've never forgotten. This is a simple recognition that each of you have impacted me at least as much as I have you. I count some of you as the best friends I have, there's nothing like walking through fire together to forge friendships. Even when sometimes we weren't friends at all eh T? M even though your not even in the same country anymore I still count you among those closest to me. I can't name you all even if I wanted to but this is my tribute to all of you. Thing is life's shit makes the best friendships the ones that'll last no matter how much time passes and how sporadic contact is in between. It's good to know that if I ever run into any of you again we can just pick up and go from where we are because trust born of trial exists. Peace my friends, may God guide you footsteps always. Love you all and I'm still not going anywhere.

Because sometimes we need reminding

Once more into the breach

It's funny how passion can leave you. How you can become jaded and hardened to things. It's also kind of funny how one little thing can change it all around. For me it was a letter from a friend. My friend was over in India helping out at a private hospital. In this last letter she included some entries from her personal journal about the joys and struggles of being in that country. One of the hardest things for her to deal with was the casual abuse, even murder, of women that occurs in that country. While reading her letter it hit me like a tidal wave. All the old emotions, all the old reasons, all the old anger at the casual abuse that occurs to girls in this country. The girls I grew up with, the girls I still know and the ones I've just met. It's been awhile since one has told me there story and I guess it's part of why I have forgotten. It brings me back to my years of summer camp, listening to the stories of campers and leaders alike as they struggle through what has happened to them. Now I struggle with who I've become. What changed me from the person they were comfortable to talk to? What has changed that I don't see them as I once did? Well my vision is clear again and the pain fills me once more but this is a good pain, a comfortable pain. It's the pain of longing. Longing to help heal, to help restore, to show them love. The simple caring love that says "If you need me I'm there." The love given to me long ago, and the love continual received from the Father. In this place I have become more confident and social but if the trade off is this inability to be an aid then forget it, I'm done. I'll be true to myself and care for those who are here because it means something. It is the one thing I can offer that will ever make a difference even if it's just a little one. I'll be damned if I'll be distracted any longer. So once more we charge into the breach...

Life walks on
Never striaght
But ever strong