I made it. Mother's Day is over, and today is a much better day. The sun is shining, I made it to the gym and therapy. All my lilacs are blooming as well as the rhododendron outside the front door.

I haven't been to the gym in a couple of weeks and it felt good to work out.

In therapy I'm dealing with some really hard stuff; unexpected stuff, that has knocked me to my knees. I feel like I've been run over by a Mac truck or HumVee or something. When my therapist previously asked, "What's the worst thing that you could imagine about what happened to you?" I'd give her an answer. And what I found out last week is so unrelated to that! I don't want to go into details here, but suffice to say that I'm struggling to believe it. Typical.

It started with a dream, a pretty bad one. I don't think all dreams are historical and hardly remembered it upon waking. But in therapy a small child talked to my therapist about what had happened to her and so it turns out the dream in fact was historial. Oh great.

Sometimes I feel like I've got the weight of the world on my shoulders. But all along I'm asking Jesus to show me the truth about what happened to me to make me multiple, and I'd rather know than just be guessing about my history.

He wants truth in the inward parts, so onward I go.