I snapped this picture when touring a local, historic jail.
And it occurs to me that our lives are a lot like this wall in the jail cell.
We write our version of our story on top of the circumstances that have placed the walls in the first place.
And then many of us continue to be imprisoned by the story, the walls, and the bars.
But, the jail I visited was open to come and go. It would have been a little crazy for me to close the door, sit down on the metal bunk and claim my place in that cell.
Because the words written on that wall aren't my life, my story to tell. Nor are the words that I've written on my own walls complete truth. We are not stuck in the cell, and with that story, those words, unless we don't do anything about it.
Choose to live. All aspects of living. Reclaim, Rewrite. Live.
So. I wrote new words.
Change. I've learned to embrace it, ride it out til the end. Sometimes I'm kicking and screaming, other times weeping with my eyes clinched tight. Once in awhile I ride like a dog in a car, head out the window snorting what life has to offer. Mother to young adult children, a marriage of thirty years, and a desert to mountain to valley waltz with God have shaped me into someone I never imagined I'd be. Life is short and I want to live it. Tears, sighs, laughter and change. Every morsel granted to me. Scrambled, shaken or stirred.