There was a vision of me holding on to a teddy bear so closely, gripping it to my heart, but a forceful wind took it away as it flew over a cliff. I felt lost without it and held on to it as if dear life. To witness a woman in her forties lost her bear felt odd, yet I kept clenching to the desire to find it again, pursuing it as if it was a goal in life. It felt the same with writing. I lost the chance to pursue creative writing, and now I clenched on the future to find it again. It felt as if I was in crisis, as the world told me so.
The truth was, I won't know until I did so. It was a dream and I was allowed, forever. It felt as if it was in crisis because I overcame violence, although it moved towards healing. I learned to surrender because I knew God needed His own working space and that was the only way miracles could come. The miracles of learning to write again. The time it took was still going on and I learned new ways each day. It was the most difficult but rewarding experience so far, aside from overcoming.
I held on so tight to the bear that it flew out of my own hands, and it wasn't my intention. Sometimes moments of love and fulfillment came to me even without the bear, but I needed to let go. It was difficult to say, even as I typed these words onto my blogging space. It felt gray and formless, but I was molding into something new.