One look at this tiny fist, and your heart smiles. The dimples substituted for knuckles, the chubby wrist separated into two parts, and the blanket this sweet little being is all-but fastened to.

I know this baby. You do, too. He dwells within the central core of our soul. He is what we all once were. He doesn't yet speak, but he is our teacher. He is the essence of wisdom, joy, and understanding.

Today is a beautiful autumn day. We went to the farmers’ market for our usual Saturday coffee/muffin date. We sat outside and listened to live music then bought our fresh baked bread, tomatoes, corn, and peaches. I wandered through the beautiful bunches of fresh flowers and took in all the vivid colors. And then I remembered.

Several years ago, this wouldn’t be a blog I’d be writing. I was too depressed to write anything.

I’ve been asked many times what healing looks like. Can we be horribly abused and then wipe away the pain and rage to go on with our lives like we were never even hurt? Let me venture into the core of my soul so I can share my thoughts with you. I hope my words will answer your questions. I warn you that I will be brutally honest. That’s what comes with healing.

I was born with the potential to one day bloom into a ravishing rose. Captivating, complex, yet delicate. But not all things come to fruition; even when they do, the timing is not ours to determine. How we wait and the choices we make are everything, as they will determine when, how, and whether we will bloom.

This blog post is one I never wanted to write. It's also a blog post I almost didn't get to write.

Five children. The five beautiful children almost left to a husband, their father, to raise. Five incredible children whose lives would be forever affected by a loss no child, no loved one should ever endure. Yes, this could have had an entirely different ending. And because of that, this is a blog post I must write.

How I love those brilliantly spectacular days when the sun shines, and there’s not a cloud in the sky. The breeze is calm, and the air is fresh. I could sit under a tree and watch nature just “happen.” These days come only a few times a year, and when they do, I remind myself to allow my soul to take it all in. Every breath. Every sound. Everything.

But sometimes the breeze picks up.