Letters of a Radiant Bride

       Being stuck is an undesirable position to be in. Every breath we take fills us with thoughts of our reality, dense like the earth's gravity and like the air that sifts gently through the powdered clouds of mountains high but lacking oxygen.      The journey is harsh. How did we get here? How did things get this bad? Were we not just kids yesterday? Where did this come up from? Looking up, our eyes hurt from pebbles of memories raining, so we bow our heads with tears laced in our eyes. Our minds intern in negativity without payment. The feathered bed we thought would be a solution was but roses filled with thorns. Each day accommodates a Goliath defiling our God that we shrink from facing. Eventually, we flee the bed for the floor of distractions but our brutal reality slaps our being back into depression.      Like light rays from the headlight of a car beam through a thick fog, visions of hope peep just behind the stormy cloud re...