She believed in miracles, but not in their existence. Miracles could be created.
Grace existed in the Universe. When she earned something that she didn't have to put any efforts for, she believed that it was the Universe showering its grace on her.
She believed in Good Samaritans. There were no dramatic rescues or last-minute life-saving events. Rather she found the spirit of the Good Samaritan in strangers who helped her unasked and unexpectedly in her day-to-day life.
She could have chosen to not to believe. For her life was plain, ordinary, just like herself.
Things changed when she decided to become her own Santa. She gifted herself forgiveness and recovery. She allowed herself to believe in her self-worth. She graciously took in the gifts of dignity and self-esteem.
She didn't become a warrior, for fighting wasn't in her nature. But she learnt to nurture the wounds that others inflicted on her. She didn't ignore them, like she had been doing for a long time.
She still couldn't place herself first, for it is difficult and almost impossible to break habits formed over years. But she lifted herself out of the last place that she had accorded for herself.
She couldn't believe that she had deserved it. But she slowly started believing that she had earned it.
Life still wasn't a bed of roses, but she started removing the thorns, one at a time.
The flowers would bloom. The fragrance would spread out and one day her garden would be in its full grandeur, for she had planted the seeds.
She became her own Santa, created miracles and believed in Grace, and Good Samaritans.
Grace existed in the Universe. When she earned something that she didn't have to put any efforts for, she believed that it was the Universe showering its grace on her.
She believed in Good Samaritans. There were no dramatic rescues or last-minute life-saving events. Rather she found the spirit of the Good Samaritan in strangers who helped her unasked and unexpectedly in her day-to-day life.
She could have chosen to not to believe. For her life was plain, ordinary, just like herself.
Things changed when she decided to become her own Santa. She gifted herself forgiveness and recovery. She allowed herself to believe in her self-worth. She graciously took in the gifts of dignity and self-esteem.
She didn't become a warrior, for fighting wasn't in her nature. But she learnt to nurture the wounds that others inflicted on her. She didn't ignore them, like she had been doing for a long time.
She still couldn't place herself first, for it is difficult and almost impossible to break habits formed over years. But she lifted herself out of the last place that she had accorded for herself.
She couldn't believe that she had deserved it. But she slowly started believing that she had earned it.
Life still wasn't a bed of roses, but she started removing the thorns, one at a time.
The flowers would bloom. The fragrance would spread out and one day her garden would be in its full grandeur, for she had planted the seeds.
She became her own Santa, created miracles and believed in Grace, and Good Samaritans.
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