I discovered this poem on a friend’s refrigerator magnet. Whew! I could not find the author, so if you know, do tell. In the meantime, I love how it gently and firmly reminds me of a few things: Joy is mine. Joy is not guaranteed, it has to be claimed. I have to do what I have to do. I can only do what I can do. Compassion is power, gentleness is strength. There is no magic but there is possibility, potential, hope and acceptance of life on life’s terms is freedom. This, my dear ones, is how we become grown up.

 Miracles Happen

 After a while you learn the subtle difference between holding a hand and chaining a soul.

And you learn that love doesn’t mean security.

And you begin to learn that kisses aren’t contracts.

And presents aren’t promises.

And you begin to accept your defeats with your head up and your eyes open.

With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child.

And you learn to build all your roads on today

because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain,

and futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.

After a while you learn that even sunshine burns if you get too much.

So you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul instead of waiting for someone else to bring you flowers.

And you learn that you really can endure.

That you really are strong.

And you really do have worth.

And you learn and learn.

With every goodbye you learn.