I don’t really like the word struggle to describe my trials… I want there to be a more hopeful word for my set of circumstances… but the truth is I struggle.
I have a faint white heart tattoo on my hand… I got it to remind myself that my hands are for loving… I got it so that I would remember to love instead of fight… I try to control the urge to raise my voice when the whining grates on my last nerve… sometimes I succeed…sometimes I fail… I struggle to remember my tattoo.
I have grand ideas of having a neat and tidy organized house… but how do you accomplish that with 3 small children and only so many hours in the day… perhaps not fill those hours with blogging eh? And yet if I didn’t blog there would be no where for my voice to confess my struggles.
I struggle to find someone to listen…