Yesterday morning arrived with a splitting headache. My desire was to resign to it and lie in my bed and invite any other ailments to join me in my hour of pain. This was an ugly one, the kind that comes with nausea and shivers and dizziness, but I have three little boys and promises to keep, so I didn’t.
I thought to myself as I curled into a ball in the middle of my bed, “you are made from tougher stuff than this Mary Jo.” But I couldn’t know that for sure, unless I stretched out, and pressed the pain to do it’s best and then walked past it. So I did.
“We can’t know what we’re made of until the world tries to tear us apart,” I thought. Then I was intrigued with that idea and wrote my limerick today to share it with you.
In deep sorrow Bree spoke from her heart,
That this was not an end, but a start.
For she had not displayed,
Of what stuff she was made,
Until the world up and tore her apart.
I hear that!
Love it!! Though what I’d really love is to have been close enough to have piled your boys in with mine, done your morning running, and allowed you to rest. Hope you’re better!
I am MUCH better…and was better yesterday. Ibuprofen and stubbornness work pretty well.
Here, here!