every second
We all hope for miracles.
Let me break that down. I said we all HOPE for miracles.
The definition of hope is to cherish a desire with anticipation.
Anticipation.
Anticipation.
So in other words, to hope for miracles, is to believe that at that moment, you don’t have any.
I’m going to tell you a secret about myself. A secret that I personally have ridden on ancient chariots into the hades of my mind to hide from the world, I know I will certainly regret telling you this but.
around 6,690 days ago, believe it or not,
I was a sperm cell. A fish in dark stormy seas searching for a soul mate on the other end of the Earth.
And when I found her, no one else mattered, and we became joint, a unique match that created this. A match that created, that.
Is that not a miracle?
Are you not a miracle?
When my mother walked through the door late that night, her breath escaping her like someone was standing there, their hands reaching down her throat and ripping it from her tired body, the scars on her face, like snakes slithering through her skin, the Toyota outside, smashed as if Zeus rained bolts of lightning onto the shiny metal exterior of the bumper,
or Aunt Estelle, her essence at war with cancer since before I could even speak, and long after the doctor told her how many months she had left to wake up to the sun, and even till this day, no matter how weak, she is still the strongest person I know.
Is it not a miracle that she is still alive? Waking up to that same sun?
Because we are only alive because we are alive.
We’re here today because all the physical and mental damage, the illnesses, the man or the woman that broke your heart and watched it bleed, the fallen loved ones that you wept for at funerals, the depression like a thick smoke filling up your lungs, the nights with swallowed pills and sharp blades upon our wrists, did not kill us and leave our bodies thrown into pits 6 feet deep under the dirt.
Every second is a miracle because the next is not guaranteed.
We all hope for miracles.
Let me break that down. I said we all HOPE for miracles.
But if that ember in your chest is still pumping divine blood through your veins,
and your soul can still see the sky,
is that not enough for now?
by Ash Williams
Let me break that down. I said we all HOPE for miracles.
The definition of hope is to cherish a desire with anticipation.
Anticipation.
Anticipation.
So in other words, to hope for miracles, is to believe that at that moment, you don’t have any.
I’m going to tell you a secret about myself. A secret that I personally have ridden on ancient chariots into the hades of my mind to hide from the world, I know I will certainly regret telling you this but.
around 6,690 days ago, believe it or not,
I was a sperm cell. A fish in dark stormy seas searching for a soul mate on the other end of the Earth.
And when I found her, no one else mattered, and we became joint, a unique match that created this. A match that created, that.
Is that not a miracle?
Are you not a miracle?
When my mother walked through the door late that night, her breath escaping her like someone was standing there, their hands reaching down her throat and ripping it from her tired body, the scars on her face, like snakes slithering through her skin, the Toyota outside, smashed as if Zeus rained bolts of lightning onto the shiny metal exterior of the bumper,
or Aunt Estelle, her essence at war with cancer since before I could even speak, and long after the doctor told her how many months she had left to wake up to the sun, and even till this day, no matter how weak, she is still the strongest person I know.
Is it not a miracle that she is still alive? Waking up to that same sun?
Because we are only alive because we are alive.
We’re here today because all the physical and mental damage, the illnesses, the man or the woman that broke your heart and watched it bleed, the fallen loved ones that you wept for at funerals, the depression like a thick smoke filling up your lungs, the nights with swallowed pills and sharp blades upon our wrists, did not kill us and leave our bodies thrown into pits 6 feet deep under the dirt.
Every second is a miracle because the next is not guaranteed.
We all hope for miracles.
Let me break that down. I said we all HOPE for miracles.
But if that ember in your chest is still pumping divine blood through your veins,
and your soul can still see the sky,
is that not enough for now?
by Ash Williams