I know you
The grieving
Wounded mother
You are not alone
Those aches
They are mine too
I have cried those weary tears of frustration
Of never ending, steadfast love
Locked bathroom doors
Hot angry prayer
Of why?
Not again – Not tonight
As fists rage
A battle not worth fighting
I lie here with you
Solidarity
Tired
You CAN fight
Get back up
I have
But for tonight
Dear mother
Rest
As Always,
Bethany
Recovering from extremism
"Let me live, love and say it well in good sentences." - Sylvia Plath
Words fail, but sometimes I try
Living day by day the best I can
Making sense of the madness
It's hard being a teenager, especially when you're 30
Little things matter. Along the way you discover they weren't so little after all.
i may appear ordinary, but i assure you, i am on my way to becoming something absolutely magnificent.
Shalom in the City
living in the upside-down kingdom
An ongoing exploration of faith, culture, myth, life, art. An advocate for all who are trapped in nightmares.
alight, spirit
simple thoughts on scripture... and other stuff.
Every butterfly has a story to share. This is mine.
lipstick, sacraments, espresso, & grace. not necessarily in that order.
thinking + motherhood = feminist
Caffeine - my anti-dru...oh...wait...
Bethany G. Paget 
April 11, 2014 at 1:32 pm
yes.