More Questions Than Answers

Just because I believe it , Doesn’t make it so.

Just because it’s good for me , Doesn’t make it good for you. When is our best ever enough? When does what we have satisfy? When will true happiness come? How much of what we give really matter? When do we practice what we preach?, Or is it all just a speech? Why does any of our wants, needs and desire’s ever matter?

Do you ever wish you could start over and just go back to that “FIRST MEMORY” of your life and ask God to have a ” DO OVER” of your life from that moment.

Henrys Parents sent me this photo

I have 2 beautiful children that I placed for adoption before I was 18 years old. My son was born in 1989. When he was born I called him Joshua. He is my first burn. He was 7 days old when we left the hospital together for the last time. His Parents named him Henry. My 2nd child was my daughter Lavondrea. She is a new years baby born in 1991. I placed her for adoption when she was 6 months old. I’m not sure if she still has her birth name. I wish I was smart enough to ask for a “do over”. But would it be to selfish satisfaction at the pain of others? I have given birth too 3 wonderful daughters after that, that I raised and nurtured to the best of my ability, and they are a grown now, trying to accomplish there best lives.

Lavondrea 4 months old
Something will always be missing, that I can never get back.

My first memory was when I was about 7 years of age, when I got this 2 inch scare on my forehead. I was on the school bus, on the way to school. And their was this boy that was always picking at me. On this day exchanging kid words and leaks , like kids do. When the bus stopped he hit me and ran off the bus. And of course I ran after him. He ran and stood on the opposite side of a concrete column in the breeze way where I could not see him until it was to late. As I passed where he was hiding he kicked out his leg and tripped me. I can still see his leg stiffen out from behind the concert post so vividly in my sights. He stuck out his foot and tripped me, as I traveled a few more feet ahead , head first into the medal flag pole and split my head wide open. I remember the doctor telling my mom they put in 21 stitches. I need to ask my mom about that though because I don’t remember much else of my younger self before that. My next clear memory is years later, I believe around the age of 9.

Why do we feel so guilty bout things we can’t change? And if we could would we made better choses using hindsight?

When Will ” I’m sorry ever be good enough” ? ( for me, if not for you)

2 thoughts on “More Questions Than Answers”

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