The thing about the birthdate since my son died is that it's turned into a thing. Like a real "thing." Odd. Unsettling. I don't like it.

Rain can bring flowers. In a storm like the one on Kuai, it was more like a river of uncontrollable sobbing. I know both feelings.

Consent and allow myself to be led to wherever mystery and the presence of God leads. Show up with the tears.