Which I have to admit, is a little bit how I feel at this point of the settling in process.
Withered. Beat Up. In shock. Downright pathetic.
Yep . That's me.
Yet, despite all the abuse they've taken and their seemingly poor adjustment to the move, I found this yesterday:
Amongst the dried, broken, withered leaves of my poor Hosta were these beautiful flowers peeking out. It's a sign (to me anyway) that despite our outward appearance, the road we've traveled, or the beaten feelings we carry, hope still lives on. The hope for a brighter tomorrow, a less busy week ahead, a light at the end of the tunnel, an easier day, the company of family and friends. Something to look forward to, instead of dwelling on the current state of our body, emotions, or status. Ahhhh, hope springs eternal.