Last night as I lay with an inconsolable Laurel, trying to be spiritual, I decided I was thinking too much about myself. I started thinking about my friends who have been unable to conceive. Some who are longing for a husband. I thought of the mother whose child was abducted and murdered. I thought of the wives with abusive husbands who would be thankful to miss the empty spot on the bed.
It was a good exercise and reminded me in the morning that I should be living for others. It’s hard at home, because my mom and dad give of their time and resources so much, and willingly give of themselves to me. I don’t want to take advantage of that. I want to give to them. So, since Laurel is now sleeping, I’m going to get busy.
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