May you never take for granted that, more than anything, you are here to live,
May you never overlook the blessing that is life and loss,
May you come to a new understanding of faith – one not steeped in tradition or dogma but steeped in acceptance
May you come to a new understanding of and appreciation for that which you can and cannot control,
May you take comfort in the knowledge that while you may not know exactly who or what God is, you know for certain it is not you,
May you willingly and graciously remove your armor in front of others, so that they can clearly see your battle scars and become willing to remove their armor as well,
May you allow the grief to fill your heart, grief so real that you carry it around with you, as this grief will bestow upon you many gifts, and will enable you to love again,
May you become the version of yourself that you were always meant to be – broken, oozing, hurting, and beautiful,
May you learn to sit right here in this moment, letting it be perfect in all of its imperfections: devastating, tedious, awkward, uncomfortable, magical.
Theresa lives in Richmond, Virginia with her husband and two sons. She is still figuring out how this adulting and parenting thing works.