The rain to the wind said,
You push and I’ll pelt.’
They so smote the garden bed
That the flowers actually knelt,
And lay lodged–though not dead.
I know how the flowers felt.
A priest would read this to my dad and I while we lied in our hospital beds. He’d read, and I’d watch my dad cry. Every time…
We knew how the flowers felt.
We all have been there…but I’m telling you, it’s no excuse to blame the rain and lie there. You’ve been given the gift of adversity. Kick it’s ass.
I promise you…you don’t know what your capable of, until your forced to find out.