With Molly having had a bad weekend last weekend, it threw off my momentum. So the writing hasn’t gone as I’d planned. Or hoped. Also, this story, this testimony, is difficult to write. The memories only want to be remembered from the surface, the real meat of them refusing to come out, to be held and crafted. So please keep praying.
I’m not sure of the direction this will take, as there are so many ways it could. I’m just writing as it comes, right now. The polishing and editing and fine tuning will come later, I assume.
Sometimes I wish memory wouldn’t be so darn fickle, yet I see the mercy in that. The mercy of not remembering the deep dark hold of grief. The mercy of not recalling the acute pain of loss. Mercy. My story could be one of mercy.
That’s all I have for you today, and I’m sorry. I miss the less…painful writing. It’s easier!