Hi.
I feel kind of like the wayward child returning home unannounced to Sunday dinner - only it isn't Sunday and there's no dinner to be seen.
And I'm thinkin' the resounding silence of the last 9 months means the house is empty and there isn't anyone sitting at the table either.
That's ok. Really.
I started blogging for me - because I wanted to have a voice that was public, even if I was speaking to an audience of one. I stopped blogging for me too - because I needed to find a different kind of voice; one that doesn't hide behind a computer screen or a piece of paper to speak the truth about my life.
I needed to find a way to say things while looking someone in the eye. Happy things. Hard things. Hopeful things. Hellish things. Heavenly things. I needed to say them. To acknowledge them and to see them reflected back at me without judgment, shame or (heaven forbid) pity.
I'm learning to do that. I'm learning to trust people enough to do that.
So here I am, back at my keyboard, back at my blog... for me.
God alone knows where this is going.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Obedience
What does it really mean to “Trust and Obey?”
I recently found out.
God has graced me with a job I love; one that allows me to use my past experiences to make a difference in the lives of hurting young people. I’ve been there for over two years and it has been the most difficult and most amazing work I’ve ever done. I can’t imagine being anywhere else.
Recently I was offered a promotion to shift supervisor. To be honest, I really didn’t want it. The current shift supervisor is over-worked, under-appreciated and she was suffering for it. I knew, almost instantly, that this wasn’t God’s plan for me and it was easy to say, “no thank you.”
Days later, a brand-new position opened up. I’d heard whispers about this position for the last year and ever since the very first hint, I wanted it. Desperately. When the position was finally posted, I jumped at the chance to apply. I’ve been doing a lot of the work already and thriving on it. It came with a pay raise and would be an excellent selling point on my grad. school application. And did I mention I really wanted it? This was absolutely the right job for me.
The only catch? I’d have to work Sunday mornings.
Now, I knew that this wasn’t an option. I knew where God wanted me on Sunday morning, and it wasn’t at work. Through other very clear, very obvious messages, God let me know that I needed to say, “no thank you” again. Only this time, I didn’t want to. I argued with God about this for days. I tried refusing. I tried begging. I tried bargaining.
Over and over again I heard God tell me, “Say no, Bethany. Trust me. Obey me.”
I went along my merry way, ignoring God and the sick feeling in my stomach that came from knowing I wasn’t following God’s plan. Surely God wanted this job for me? Surely He wanted me to get a raise? I found myself thinking, if God really doesn’t want me to have this job, He’ll make sure they choose someone else. At the eleventh hour, God told me, yet again, “Say no Bethany!”
I broke.
My God has shown me over and over and over again that He will do what He has promised and that His plan for my life is better than mine could ever be. He has shown me that He will orchestrate every movement of my life and that I can trust Him. So I did.
I walked into my program manager’s office, mere minutes before she was going to make the final decision. I sat down with her and told her I was going to make her decision easy. I said, “No thank you,” and told her why.
And then God provided my own little ram in the thicket.
My program manager told me that from the very beginning the job was mine; they just had to do things properly. She then said that she knew how important church was to me and she was waiting for me to say so. She handed me two job offers. One was for a Sunday through Thursday shift, the other was for a Tuesday through Saturday shift. She'd gotten approval to offer me either of them. All I had to do was ask.
All I had to do was obey.
Had I not gone to her, I would have still gotten the job, and I would have gone to work every Sunday morning knowing that I was being unfaithful. I would have gotten that pay increase, and every extra penny would have been a reminder of my disobedience.
Instead, I acted out of obedience and things snapped into place. God asked me to give up something I really wanted, and He gave me something better.
Amen.
I recently found out.
God has graced me with a job I love; one that allows me to use my past experiences to make a difference in the lives of hurting young people. I’ve been there for over two years and it has been the most difficult and most amazing work I’ve ever done. I can’t imagine being anywhere else.
Recently I was offered a promotion to shift supervisor. To be honest, I really didn’t want it. The current shift supervisor is over-worked, under-appreciated and she was suffering for it. I knew, almost instantly, that this wasn’t God’s plan for me and it was easy to say, “no thank you.”
Days later, a brand-new position opened up. I’d heard whispers about this position for the last year and ever since the very first hint, I wanted it. Desperately. When the position was finally posted, I jumped at the chance to apply. I’ve been doing a lot of the work already and thriving on it. It came with a pay raise and would be an excellent selling point on my grad. school application. And did I mention I really wanted it? This was absolutely the right job for me.
The only catch? I’d have to work Sunday mornings.
Now, I knew that this wasn’t an option. I knew where God wanted me on Sunday morning, and it wasn’t at work. Through other very clear, very obvious messages, God let me know that I needed to say, “no thank you” again. Only this time, I didn’t want to. I argued with God about this for days. I tried refusing. I tried begging. I tried bargaining.
Over and over again I heard God tell me, “Say no, Bethany. Trust me. Obey me.”
I went along my merry way, ignoring God and the sick feeling in my stomach that came from knowing I wasn’t following God’s plan. Surely God wanted this job for me? Surely He wanted me to get a raise? I found myself thinking, if God really doesn’t want me to have this job, He’ll make sure they choose someone else. At the eleventh hour, God told me, yet again, “Say no Bethany!”
I broke.
My God has shown me over and over and over again that He will do what He has promised and that His plan for my life is better than mine could ever be. He has shown me that He will orchestrate every movement of my life and that I can trust Him. So I did.
I walked into my program manager’s office, mere minutes before she was going to make the final decision. I sat down with her and told her I was going to make her decision easy. I said, “No thank you,” and told her why.
And then God provided my own little ram in the thicket.
My program manager told me that from the very beginning the job was mine; they just had to do things properly. She then said that she knew how important church was to me and she was waiting for me to say so. She handed me two job offers. One was for a Sunday through Thursday shift, the other was for a Tuesday through Saturday shift. She'd gotten approval to offer me either of them. All I had to do was ask.
All I had to do was obey.
Had I not gone to her, I would have still gotten the job, and I would have gone to work every Sunday morning knowing that I was being unfaithful. I would have gotten that pay increase, and every extra penny would have been a reminder of my disobedience.
Instead, I acted out of obedience and things snapped into place. God asked me to give up something I really wanted, and He gave me something better.
Amen.
Friday, November 26, 2010
The last two months...
So I took an unintentional hiatus from blogging. ::sigh::
I haven't felt much like writing I guess.
What have I been up to the last two months?
* On the 23rd of September I was involved in a physical intervention (restraint/hold/whatever you want to call it) with a client. This client struggled a lot and at some point during the hold I slipped or stepped wrong and tore a ligament in my ankle. I just returned to work this week after 8 weeks of light duty.
There were a lot of blessings in this time of rest - I've had some wonderful, in depth conversations with my program manager and some co-workers; conversations I could never have on the milieu side of the street. From a work standpoint I have (not intentionally) come to the attention of the higher-ups and they all have positive things to say about me. This feels good.
Not being in the milieu did NOT feel good. I take a lot of pride in my job. I love what I do and I'm good at it. Though not quite a healthy approach, I've defined a lot of my worth based on my ability to do my job well. I feel confident and competant in the milieu and there aren't a lot of other situations or settings where that is true. I'm still working out what God had to teach me in this... it's coming to me slowly. I was resistant to the teachable moment for a long time.
* My trauma recovery therapy has gotten a LOT more intense. Every time I talk about treatment, I say, "its getting really hard." And every time I talk about it, it really is getting harder. I'm more prepared for it - most of the time - and I still sometimes just want to quit. There's a lot of yucky stuff to face.
:::: let me step up on a tangential soap box for a moment ::::
Lately, I've been hearing a lot of people - both online and in real life - being really judgmental of people who struggle with depression, PTSD and various & assundry other mental disorders. I've heard things like: "If they just had more faith," or "if they just prayed harder," or "The Holy Spirit is the only counselor anyone should need." But worst of all are comments like, "if you can't get over it, you're living in sin by damaging your witness for Christ."
Ok, so there's some grains of truth in all of those, but God has gifted us with people who are called to help others recover from past experiences. The reality is, faith is hard, prayer is hard, trusting the Holy Spirit is hard, and being an effective witness is HARD when you are suffering. My friends, LIVING is hard when you have a mental illness. But there's a difference between refusing to change and struggling to change.
Some people want to make it into a solely spiritual problem. It isn't. That's like telling a diabetic that if they were right with God, they wouldn't have trouble controlling their bloodsugars. Legalism at it's worst.
:::: moving on :::: Where was I anyway? Oh yes, the last two months.
*I've been having some significant struggles with my oldest son. I just don't know what to do. He needs a Godly father(figure). My boys need someone to show them how to be strong Christian men and my daughters need someone to show them how men should treat women.
But me, the woman with more baggage than a 747 cargo hold? Being open to a relationship? BLEH!!! Lord, just let the men in the church take them under their wings and leave me out of it!
So that's my life in a nutshell. God has done and is doing some amazing work in me, but I don't have the words to put it down on "paper" yet. Someday.
I haven't felt much like writing I guess.
What have I been up to the last two months?
* On the 23rd of September I was involved in a physical intervention (restraint/hold/whatever you want to call it) with a client. This client struggled a lot and at some point during the hold I slipped or stepped wrong and tore a ligament in my ankle. I just returned to work this week after 8 weeks of light duty.
There were a lot of blessings in this time of rest - I've had some wonderful, in depth conversations with my program manager and some co-workers; conversations I could never have on the milieu side of the street. From a work standpoint I have (not intentionally) come to the attention of the higher-ups and they all have positive things to say about me. This feels good.
Not being in the milieu did NOT feel good. I take a lot of pride in my job. I love what I do and I'm good at it. Though not quite a healthy approach, I've defined a lot of my worth based on my ability to do my job well. I feel confident and competant in the milieu and there aren't a lot of other situations or settings where that is true. I'm still working out what God had to teach me in this... it's coming to me slowly. I was resistant to the teachable moment for a long time.
* My trauma recovery therapy has gotten a LOT more intense. Every time I talk about treatment, I say, "its getting really hard." And every time I talk about it, it really is getting harder. I'm more prepared for it - most of the time - and I still sometimes just want to quit. There's a lot of yucky stuff to face.
:::: let me step up on a tangential soap box for a moment ::::
Lately, I've been hearing a lot of people - both online and in real life - being really judgmental of people who struggle with depression, PTSD and various & assundry other mental disorders. I've heard things like: "If they just had more faith," or "if they just prayed harder," or "The Holy Spirit is the only counselor anyone should need." But worst of all are comments like, "if you can't get over it, you're living in sin by damaging your witness for Christ."
Ok, so there's some grains of truth in all of those, but God has gifted us with people who are called to help others recover from past experiences. The reality is, faith is hard, prayer is hard, trusting the Holy Spirit is hard, and being an effective witness is HARD when you are suffering. My friends, LIVING is hard when you have a mental illness. But there's a difference between refusing to change and struggling to change.
Some people want to make it into a solely spiritual problem. It isn't. That's like telling a diabetic that if they were right with God, they wouldn't have trouble controlling their bloodsugars. Legalism at it's worst.
:::: moving on :::: Where was I anyway? Oh yes, the last two months.
*I've been having some significant struggles with my oldest son. I just don't know what to do. He needs a Godly father(figure). My boys need someone to show them how to be strong Christian men and my daughters need someone to show them how men should treat women.
But me, the woman with more baggage than a 747 cargo hold? Being open to a relationship? BLEH!!! Lord, just let the men in the church take them under their wings and leave me out of it!
So that's my life in a nutshell. God has done and is doing some amazing work in me, but I don't have the words to put it down on "paper" yet. Someday.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Something wonderful...
I saw something wonderful today... God did many things wonderful today.
First, I was able to handle my oldest son without yelling or saying things I shouldn't. God just settled on me and gave me a calm voice and a quiet spirit. You have no idea how much I've struggled with this over the last few months.
Then, as I pulled up to church, I saw a car that I never expected to see at church again. A friend, who swore she'd never return to our church because she was held accountable for her choices, had come to church. That's a miracle - a huge one. God's starting something amazing in her.
And He's done some amazing things in our church body too. We're really starting to get - and live out - what sharing God's love really means. The same young woman try to leave the service quietly and sneak out so people couldn't talk to her. Instead of allowing it, two older women who have been known to be gossips in the past, stopped her and gave her a hug. One of them ran after her, told her she loved her and held her as she cried. Another miracle.
Would I have liked to be one of those huggers? Yes. But maybe it was better for her to receive that love from a source she wouldn't normally expect.
And God.
God's doing some pretty amazing things in me too. I don't know how, yet, to put all the words on it, but my life is changing. I love what God's doing. I even love the hard things He's allowed in my life.... in the past 9 months, in the past year, in the past two years, in the past decade plus. Lots of little trees make a big forest. I'm finally starting to see it.
First, I was able to handle my oldest son without yelling or saying things I shouldn't. God just settled on me and gave me a calm voice and a quiet spirit. You have no idea how much I've struggled with this over the last few months.
Then, as I pulled up to church, I saw a car that I never expected to see at church again. A friend, who swore she'd never return to our church because she was held accountable for her choices, had come to church. That's a miracle - a huge one. God's starting something amazing in her.
And He's done some amazing things in our church body too. We're really starting to get - and live out - what sharing God's love really means. The same young woman try to leave the service quietly and sneak out so people couldn't talk to her. Instead of allowing it, two older women who have been known to be gossips in the past, stopped her and gave her a hug. One of them ran after her, told her she loved her and held her as she cried. Another miracle.
Would I have liked to be one of those huggers? Yes. But maybe it was better for her to receive that love from a source she wouldn't normally expect.
And God.
God's doing some pretty amazing things in me too. I don't know how, yet, to put all the words on it, but my life is changing. I love what God's doing. I even love the hard things He's allowed in my life.... in the past 9 months, in the past year, in the past two years, in the past decade plus. Lots of little trees make a big forest. I'm finally starting to see it.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Teachable moments...
Don't you just love it, as a parent, when you are intending to teach your child something and it ends up being one of God's 2x4s for YOU instead of them?
Ok, maybe "love" is too strong a word.
Way too strong.
Humbling is more like it.
My oldest son and I have being going rounds multiple times daily for the last few weeks. He has reached to new levels of disrespect and defiance. He's so angry.
This time last week, he was screaming at me because I asked him to do his chores (extra chores he "earned" by making a VERY bad choice earlier in the summer). I sent him to his room, where he proceeded to scream and yell at me about being in his room. And he punched his brother in the face because he was mad at me. :::sigh:::
He then started telling me that it was my fault he was acting this way because I'm always making him mad. Let me tell you, I've had enough of people telling me their behavior is my fault. I sent the other kids outside, said some things I really wish I hadn't and then I pulled out my deadly-quiet voice.
I asked him, "What do you suppose God thinks about how you're behaving right now?" He said he didn't know in his I-don't-care voice. Oooooh that voice makes me mad.
I started quoting verses.
You know, like "Honor thy father and mother"
"Be kind, one to another."
He was sneering, but quiet, until I got to,
"Love your neighbor as yourself."
Full swing attitude came in.
"How can I love my neighbor if you won't let me go outside and play? Who the heck is my neighbor anyway?"
Heh.
I think... yay! Teachable moment!
The answer's in your Bible child. "No it isn't!"
Oh yes, it is.
I told him to go get his Bible and open it up.
He yelled and screamed that he didn't want to, didn't have to, wasn't going to. Blah blah blah. He got his Bible.
I told him find the parable of the Good Samaritan.
He yelled and screamed that he already knows it, can't find it, I can't make him. Blah blah blah. He started looking and found it.
I told him to read it.
He yelled and screamed that it was a waste of time, it's boring, it's stupid. Blah blah blah. He read it.
I told him to get a notebook and a pen and write a summary of the parable.
He yelled and screamed that he didn't want to, didn't have to, wasn't going to. Blah blah blah. He started writing.
I told him to write down what he learned from the story and write down the answer to his question.
He yelled and screamed.... all of the above. Blah blah blah. Then silence.
He walked out of his room, head down, and handed me his notebook. I said, "Well?" He looked at his toes and mumbled, "Everyone's my neighbor." Exactly.
"And guess what? You're doing this again tomorrow." He opened his mouth to yell and scream... and said nothing. He went back to his room, laid down on his bed and played/read quietly the rest of the day.
Ah ha! I thought. The key to peace and quiet. I should have known.
so the next morning, all full of myself and my parenting pride, I found the "perfect passage" designed to hit home as hard as possible. I handed him his Bible and his notebook. He grumbled a little and started to say, "I'm not doing it -" I gave him a look, "unless you do it with me."
Oh.
But... but... I don't want to. I don't have to. You can't make me. Blah blah blah.
Oops.
That parenting pride thing? Umm... yeah. See, when I picked that passage, it was meant for HIM and his attitude. Not for me.
Yeah. Right.
So, we read the passage. And we've read something together every other day since.
God hit me upside the head with my pride... and His Word.
Not a bad thing.
But boy, it hurt.
Ok, maybe "love" is too strong a word.
Way too strong.
Humbling is more like it.
My oldest son and I have being going rounds multiple times daily for the last few weeks. He has reached to new levels of disrespect and defiance. He's so angry.
This time last week, he was screaming at me because I asked him to do his chores (extra chores he "earned" by making a VERY bad choice earlier in the summer). I sent him to his room, where he proceeded to scream and yell at me about being in his room. And he punched his brother in the face because he was mad at me. :::sigh:::
He then started telling me that it was my fault he was acting this way because I'm always making him mad. Let me tell you, I've had enough of people telling me their behavior is my fault. I sent the other kids outside, said some things I really wish I hadn't and then I pulled out my deadly-quiet voice.
I asked him, "What do you suppose God thinks about how you're behaving right now?" He said he didn't know in his I-don't-care voice. Oooooh that voice makes me mad.
I started quoting verses.
You know, like "Honor thy father and mother"
"Be kind, one to another."
He was sneering, but quiet, until I got to,
"Love your neighbor as yourself."
Full swing attitude came in.
"How can I love my neighbor if you won't let me go outside and play? Who the heck is my neighbor anyway?"
Heh.
I think... yay! Teachable moment!
The answer's in your Bible child. "No it isn't!"
Oh yes, it is.
I told him to go get his Bible and open it up.
He yelled and screamed that he didn't want to, didn't have to, wasn't going to. Blah blah blah. He got his Bible.
I told him find the parable of the Good Samaritan.
He yelled and screamed that he already knows it, can't find it, I can't make him. Blah blah blah. He started looking and found it.
I told him to read it.
He yelled and screamed that it was a waste of time, it's boring, it's stupid. Blah blah blah. He read it.
I told him to get a notebook and a pen and write a summary of the parable.
He yelled and screamed that he didn't want to, didn't have to, wasn't going to. Blah blah blah. He started writing.
I told him to write down what he learned from the story and write down the answer to his question.
He yelled and screamed.... all of the above. Blah blah blah. Then silence.
He walked out of his room, head down, and handed me his notebook. I said, "Well?" He looked at his toes and mumbled, "Everyone's my neighbor." Exactly.
"And guess what? You're doing this again tomorrow." He opened his mouth to yell and scream... and said nothing. He went back to his room, laid down on his bed and played/read quietly the rest of the day.
Ah ha! I thought. The key to peace and quiet. I should have known.
so the next morning, all full of myself and my parenting pride, I found the "perfect passage" designed to hit home as hard as possible. I handed him his Bible and his notebook. He grumbled a little and started to say, "I'm not doing it -" I gave him a look, "unless you do it with me."
Oh.
But... but... I don't want to. I don't have to. You can't make me. Blah blah blah.
Oops.
That parenting pride thing? Umm... yeah. See, when I picked that passage, it was meant for HIM and his attitude. Not for me.
Yeah. Right.
So, we read the passage. And we've read something together every other day since.
God hit me upside the head with my pride... and His Word.
Not a bad thing.
But boy, it hurt.
Monday, August 2, 2010
Grit
Ever had a wound debrided? It's pretty excruciating. That's what my life feels like right now.
Which probably sounds like the same ol' same ol' from me.
Only it isn't.
The things I'm working through right now are pretty excruciating... but I am so grateful I'm finally allowing God to dig out all that grit that has dug in and infected every aspect of my life.
I'm crying a lot - because I'm letting out the grief and hurt that I tried to bury for so long.
I'm raging a lot - because I'm letting out the anger - and hurt - that has lodged itself in my heart.
And you know what? I'm laughing a lot too.
Sometimes it's the desperate laughter of the broken-hearted or the dark laughter of the half-mad. But it's laughter. And it's genuine, which may not seem like much, but for me it's HUGE.
Even when I'm really hurting, there's this I-don't-know-what bubbling up inside me. Even when I'm drained and emotionally exhausted, there's this core feeling that I'm ok. That I'll be ok. Or maybe someday, even better than ok.
Grit.
Abrasive and coarse.
Rough. Painful.
And... courageous.
There's another meaning for the word, and I think I'm choosing that one.
Firm character.
Indomitable spirit.
Courage.
Yup. I like that one.
Which probably sounds like the same ol' same ol' from me.
Only it isn't.
The things I'm working through right now are pretty excruciating... but I am so grateful I'm finally allowing God to dig out all that grit that has dug in and infected every aspect of my life.
I'm crying a lot - because I'm letting out the grief and hurt that I tried to bury for so long.
I'm raging a lot - because I'm letting out the anger - and hurt - that has lodged itself in my heart.
And you know what? I'm laughing a lot too.
Sometimes it's the desperate laughter of the broken-hearted or the dark laughter of the half-mad. But it's laughter. And it's genuine, which may not seem like much, but for me it's HUGE.
Even when I'm really hurting, there's this I-don't-know-what bubbling up inside me. Even when I'm drained and emotionally exhausted, there's this core feeling that I'm ok. That I'll be ok. Or maybe someday, even better than ok.
Grit.
Abrasive and coarse.
Rough. Painful.
And... courageous.
There's another meaning for the word, and I think I'm choosing that one.
Firm character.
Indomitable spirit.
Courage.
Yup. I like that one.
Friday, July 9, 2010
Not today.
On days like today, in weeks like this week... :::sigh::
I don't know if I'm angry or sad or ashamed, or a bitter mix of the three that sits in my stomach like battery acid.
You know, painful and fatal.
I am sick to death of being disordered.
I'm hurting and I just want it all to go away.
I want to curl up and hide... in my head, in the real world... in both. Does it really matter?
I'm not supposed to retreat inside my head... but do you have any idea how hard it is to stay present in the moment when the moment is pretty close to awful? When the smallest thing triggers a cascade of junk and nothing in reality feels safe?
I'm doing everything I'm supposed to be doing right now, it just isn't working the way I want it to... I mean, it's working because I'm safe and I have no intention of doing anything stupid, but it isn't making the nasty stuff go away. I'm just maintaining. Hanging on. Waiting out the storm while getting cold, tired and downright battered.
I know God has a plan for this... I know there's a reason... but right now it isn't comforting. At all. I have all sorts of willful and petulant things I could say about that, but I'll hold my proverbial tongue. I know this will pass, and I'll come out better and stronger and all those wonderful things... and today is not a day I'm capable of finding meaning in the pain. Not today.
I don't know if I'm angry or sad or ashamed, or a bitter mix of the three that sits in my stomach like battery acid.
You know, painful and fatal.
I am sick to death of being disordered.
I'm hurting and I just want it all to go away.
I want to curl up and hide... in my head, in the real world... in both. Does it really matter?
I'm not supposed to retreat inside my head... but do you have any idea how hard it is to stay present in the moment when the moment is pretty close to awful? When the smallest thing triggers a cascade of junk and nothing in reality feels safe?
I'm doing everything I'm supposed to be doing right now, it just isn't working the way I want it to... I mean, it's working because I'm safe and I have no intention of doing anything stupid, but it isn't making the nasty stuff go away. I'm just maintaining. Hanging on. Waiting out the storm while getting cold, tired and downright battered.
I know God has a plan for this... I know there's a reason... but right now it isn't comforting. At all. I have all sorts of willful and petulant things I could say about that, but I'll hold my proverbial tongue. I know this will pass, and I'll come out better and stronger and all those wonderful things... and today is not a day I'm capable of finding meaning in the pain. Not today.
This is for those who wait ~
Lifeflight
Another day, another waiting game
A little different but it's still the same
I am here, but where's the one I'm longing for?
I'm having trouble feeling all alone
Will my heart ever find a home?
I want to hope but sometimes I just don't know
I know I'm not the only one
So we sing a lullaby to the lonely hearts tonight
Let it set your heart on fire, let it set you free
When you're fighting to believe
In a love that you can't see
Just know there is a purpose
For those who wait
I want to open up my eyes
I know that all I need is time
I'm growing stronger every single day
God, I'm going to lean into You now
Letting go of all my fear and doubt
I can't do this on my own so I'll give You control
I know I'm not the only one
The pressure makes us stronger
The struggle makes us hunger
The hard lessons make the difference
The pressure makes us stronger
The struggle makes us hunger
The hard lessons make the difference
And the difference makes it worth it
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