Exhale: From Trauma to Transformation

The setting sun refracted light off the water like thousands of broken mirrors. There I stood and took in the view, including the angry pink of Chris’ surgery scar, and I felt a gentle leaning into my soul. It was God and he was whispering. “It’s okay Heather. You do not have to be afraid anymore. It’s okay to let go. I’ve got this moment. I’ve got him and I have you.”

She had the audacity to tell me I have it all together…if she only knew

  I wrestle my hair into the straightener cussing after the hot iron brands my neck like a middle-schooler slinking into gym class with a hickey on her neck. I decide it’s too tender to put makeup on it and rush to get dressed, tripping over my own feet because apparently I still haven’t learned…