Rebuild Love Quotes

The reality is that you will grieve forever. You will not ‘get over’ the loss of a loved one; you will learn to live with it. You will heal and you will rebuild yourself around the loss you have suffered. You will be whole again but you will never be the same. Nor should you be the same nor would you want to.

Love can rebuild the world, they say, so everything's possible when it comes to love.

The beautiful stranger cuddled Cindy, and she rocked the chair slightly as she spoke softly to her. “Suicide is a problem, not a solution. Humans you love would be hurt deeply if you left them. Becky Johnson and her parents would be crushed. Your grandparents in Florida never

DETOX your mind, body, AND your contact list.

Over thinking ruins moods and kills good vibes.

Annabeth, thank goodness, would be staying in New York. She'd gotten permission from her parents to attend a boarding school in the city so she could be close to Olympus and oversee the rebuilding efforts. "And close to me?" I asked. "Well, someone's got a big sense of his own importance." But she laced her fingers through mine. I remembered what she'd told me in New York, about building something permanent, and I thought—just maybe—we were off to a good start.

This is what you do. If you feel low, you stand tall. You mess up, you move on. You want to try something, try it, and if it was a stupid thing to try, you look it in the eye. There's no turning back. You apologize if you're sorry, but know that the nimblest, strongest hands can't rebuild a bridge out of embers, so cut new wood. Start from scratch. You love with your whole heart. If you're jealous, talk yourself from the ledge. If you can't talk yourself down from the ledge, have a good time up there, looking down on the world. If you have to lie to make everything true again, lie like you mean it. If you find yourself in a cage, reach out through the bars for the key, unlock the door, and run away. If running away gets dangerous, run home. If home doesn't mean what it used to mean, decide what home will be in the future. If your best friend says she doesn't trust you, hold her jaw in your hand until it hurts, and make her face you. Thats all it takes. If you think you love a guy, see how his hand looks in yours, thats all it takes. If you get exiled into a new land, then go discover it. And if you feel like you're drowning, go swimming.

The beautiful stranger cuddled Cindy, and she rocked the chair slightly as she spoke softly to her. “Suicide is a problem, not a solution. Humans you love would be hurt deeply if you left them. Becky Johnson and her parents would be crushed. Your grandparents in Florida never forget to mention your name in their evening prayers. I have loved you before and since your first heartbeat. Your father loves you. He will be rightfully proud when I tell him about your brave attempt to protect Pretty Boy.” “You will speak to Daddy?” “I will.” “Please, may I know? Who are you?” “I am your guardian angel, Cindy.

It’s hard to look the people you love in the face when they’ve seen you fuck up everything you touch. Sometimes, it’s easier to rebuild your life if you’re with someone who’s been as low as you’ve been.

But they had already tried, again and again and again, and always, when the first crashing wave of mutual longing subsided, the ugly wreck of the past lay revealed again, its shadow lying darkly over everything they tried to rebuild.

Rebuilding of the self in and after depression requires love, insight, work, and, most of all, time.

The point of a fairy tale is never in the details. The point is that it's easy to remember, to carry, to tell. We'll continue telling until the stones fall down, and then we'll rebuild and start again.

We are retracing the lines and windows that are no longer there. We are rebuilding from our memory, trying to do with our eyes open what we usually do with our eyes closed.

I’ve had a long life. You haven’t. You love your family. Go to another world. Find a…a husband—” He broke off and that rattle began deep in his chest. His next words came out thickly, around fangs. “Have children. Rebuild the human race. Live all those dreams you used to have.” “Used to,” I agreed, nipping his full lower lip. “Don’t anymore. Can’t even conceive of them. You’re my dream.

She felt as if she had been crying without end for minutes now. Yet this parting, this final farewell ... Aelin looked at Chaol and Dorian and sobbed. Opened her arms to them, and wept as they held each other. “I love you both,” she whispered. “And no matter what may happen, no matter how far we may be, that will never change.” “We will see you again,” Chaol said, but even his voice was thick with tears. “Together,” Dorian breathed, shaking. “We’ll rebuild this world together.” She couldn’t stand it, this ache in her chest. But she made herself pull away and smile at their tear-streaked faces, a hand on her heart. “Thank you for all you have done for me.” Dorian bowed his head. “Those are words I’d never thought I’d hear from you.” She barked a rasping laugh, and gave him a shove. “You’re a king now. Such insults are beneath you.” He grinned, wiping at his face. Aelin smiled at Chaol, at his wife waiting beyond him. “I wish you every happiness,” she said to him. To them both. Such light shone in Chaol’s bronze eyes—that she had never seen before. “We will see each other again,” he repeated. Then he and Dorian turned toward their horses, toward the bright day beyond the castle gates. Toward their kingdom to the south. Shattered now, but not forever. Not forever.

There is not enough air in the room but you are breathing. There is nobody here but you are held. You have broken and the world is breaking and we will always rebuild. Do you hear me, love? We will always rebuild.

We must rebuild organic communities, where people can come together and have analogue conversations and share stories, art, music and emotions.

I've always loved books. I'm passionate about them. I think books are sexy. They are smooth and solid and contain delightful surprises. They smell good. They fit into a handbag and can be carried around and opened at will. They don't change. They are what they are and nothing else. One day I want to own a lot of books and have them nbear to me in my house, so that I can stroll to my bookshelves and choose what I fancy. I want a harem. I shall keep my favourites by my bed.

Pain will subside only when we acknowledge it and care for it. Addressing it with love and compassion would take only a minuscule percentage of the energy it takes to fight it, but approaching pain head-on is terrifying. Most of us were not taught how to recognize pain, name it, and be with it. Our families and culture believed that the vulnerability that it takes to acknowledge pain was weakness, so we were taught anger, rage, and denial instead. But what we know now is that when we deny our emotion, it owns us. When we own our emotion, we can rebuild and find our way through the pain.

The most traumatic aspects of all disasters involve the shattering of human connections. And this is especially true for children. Being harmed by the people who are supposed to love you, being abandoned by them, being robbed of the one-on-one relationships that allow you to feel safe and valued and to become humane—these are profoundly destructive experiences. Because humans are inescapably social beings, the worst catastrophes that can befall us inevitably involve relational loss. As a result, recovery from trauma and neglect is also all about relationships—rebuilding trust, regaining confidence, returning to a sense of security and reconnecting to love. Of course, medications can help relieve symptoms and talking to a therapist can be incredibly useful. But healing and recovery are impossible—even with the best medications and therapy in the world—without lasting, caring connections to others.

We shouldn't live in a world where we live in constant terror. We need less dying and more living. We need less destroying and more building. We need less hate and more love.

When you think about it, life is a risk. Every day is a risk. Getting in a car is a risk. Loving is a risk. But, darling, losing it all means that you have a chance to rebuild, better than before.

Sometimes, it feels like he’s trying to rebuild our lives out of matchsticks. And I do love him for that. But loving someone isn’t the same thing as understanding them.

After the storm, many citizens left New Orleans to live elsewhere, but those who stayed were determined to rebuild. They loved their city.

Stop looking for a partner. Focus on your goals and rebuilding your life. The right person will eventually find their way to you.

It may take only months to rebuild a devastated city and restore life and normality, but rebuilding trust can take an eternity — and may never become reality.

You mean we won't get to run through burning buildings?" I could see he wanted to laugh, but instead he watched me intently. "What? Why are you staring at me?" "I'm not staring. I'm observing." I smiled through my tears. "And what do you observe?" He brushed his lips against my ear. "A brave young woman who has always fought for what was right, even when it was unpopular. A woman who can't return to the land of her birth, but is wlcome to cross the seas and rebuild Alexandria in mine. And a woman who has suffered enough in Rome and deserves happiness for a change. Will you come to Mauretania and be my queen?" He drew back to look at me, but I held him closer. "Yes." "Just yes?" I nodded and pressed my lips against his.

Rebuilding us. Isn’t that what the spirit requires, when we climb over the wreckage of our lives, sometimes, we go on to make our lives our own affirmation? We are perfect expressions of perfect Love, here and now. There is no permanent injury.

Sometimes, People just aren’t going to get it It’s an ever-elusive concept, to be understood All you can hope for Is that you find someone that tries. Find someone that tries.

The reality is that there are plenty of trustworthy people in the world rebuilding their lives. It was a very gradual process for me to open up and talk about what was really going on in my recovery. The more I started to take risks by talking to others, however, the more I had an opportunity to exercise boundaries. As I asserted new boundaries, I started to gravitate towards people with integrity, warmheartedness and decency.

Maybe right now your journey is about you. Maybe this is the season you are being challenged to be your own savior, to be your own safe place. Maybe right now you are being reminded — that the people who walked away were only ever leading you back to yourself, were only ever leading you here. And here, you are okay on your own. Here, you are rebuilding. Here, you are adapting, and mending, and reclaiming all of the pieces you let them walk away with. Here, you are being kinder to your soul, you are giving yourself the same kind of love you have always given to others. Here, you are not rushing your heart, you are not depending on another human being to fix it. Instead, here, you are doing that on your own. Here, you are healing. When you are ready to put your heart into this world again, do not look for the same kind of love you have experienced; resist the urge to compare the human beings that come into your life to the ones that have left.

Start today creating a vision for yourself, your life, and your career. Bounce back from adversity and create what you want, rebuild and rebrand. Tell yourself it's possible along the way, have patience, and maintain peace with yourself during the process.

The living dead had taken more from us than land and loved ones. They'd robbed us of our confidence as the planet's dominant life form. We were a shaken, broken species, driven to the edge of extinction and grateful only for tomorrow with perhaps a little less suffering than today. Was this the legacy we would leave our children, a level of anxiety and self-doubt not seen since our simian ancestors cowered in the tallest trees? What kind of world would they rebuild? Would they rebuild at all? Could they continue to progress, knowing that they would be powerless to reclaim their future? And what if that future saw another rise of the living dead? Would our descendants rise to meet them in battle, or simply crumple in meek surrender and accept what they believe to be their inevitable extinction? For this alone, we had to reclaim our planet. We had to prove to ourselves that we could do it, and leave that proof as this war's greatest monument. The long, hard road back to humanity, or the regressive ennui of Earth's once-proud primates. That was the choice, and it had to be made now.

She would not let that light go out. She would fill the world with it, her light--her gift. She would light up the darkness, so brightly that all who were lost or wounded or broken would find their way to it, a beacon for those who still dwelled in that abyss. It would not take a monster to destroy a monster--but light, light to drive out the darkness. She was not afraid. She would remake the world--remake it for them, those she had loved with this glorious, burning heart; a world so brilliant and prosperous that when she saw them again in the Afterworld, she would not be ashamed. She would rebuild it for her people, who had survived this long, and whom she would not abandon. She would make for them a kingdom such as there had never been, even if it took until her last breath. She was their queen, and she could offer them nothing less.

Rebuilding of the self in and after depression requires love, insight, work, and, most of all, time. Diagnosis

Overcoming love addiction is possible, just as it is possible to transcend co-dependence and rebuild a healthy relationship with ourselves and others.

I’ll never be who I once was, and I don’t want to. So it’s time for me to rebuild a version of me I can love. So that someday, someone else can love me too.

In reality, it may only take months to rebuild a city and restore normality, but rebuilding trust can take an eternity.

Loving words are difficult for me. I know my feelings won't get throught to you. You're blocking the way. And so am I. This ditch won't be filled forever. So I'll build a bridge. If it gets washed away in a muddy stream, I'll rebuild it. Are things in life so easily broken? It doesn't matter. It's okay.

You tell me that class distinctions are baubles used by monarchs, I defy you to show me a republic, ancient or modern, in which distinctions have not existed. You call these medals and ribbons baubles; well, it is with such baubles that men are led. I would not say this in public, but in a assembly of wise statesmen it should be said. I don't think that the French love liberty and equality: the French are not changed by ten years of revolution: they are what the Gauls were, fierce and fickle. They have one feeling: honour. We must nourish that feeling. The people clamour for distinction. See how the crowd is awed by the medals and orders worn by foreign diplomats. We must recreate these distinctions. There has been too much tearing down; we must rebuild. A government exists, yes and power, but the nation itself - what is it? Scattered grains of sand.

I read that the body remakes itself every seven years. Every cell. Even the bones rebuild themselves like coral. Why then do we remember what should be long gone? What’s the point of every scar and humiliation? What is the point of remembering the good times when they are gone? I love you. I miss you. You are dead.

One never knows when the end is coming, or if we may all be assembled together as a whole and complete family again. And so I want you to know that I regret every day that my full attention has been called away from you, and if these talks, and the rebuilding of our loops at home, have caused me to shirk my responsibility to you, I am sorry. In the end I am your mistress and your servant. You mean more to me than all the birds in the sky and the heavens above them. If you love me, I hope I have deserved it.

Moving on. It’s a phrase I obsess over: what it means, what it doesn’t, how to do it for real. It seemed so easy at first, too easy, and it’s starting to dawn on me that moving on is a myth—a lie you sell yourself on when your life has become unendurable. It’s the delusion that you can build a barricade between yourself and your past—that you can ignore your pain, that you can bury your great love with a new relationship, that you are among the lucky few who get to skip over the hard work of grieving and healing and rebuilding—and that all this, when it catches up to you, won’t come for blood.

We house both masterpiece and artist in this skin. So when you are disintegrated, trying to piece together what is left inside you, focus on this: You are not broken. You are simply dissembled for a while as the artist inside rebuilds something infinite out of you.

insecurity had nothing to do with reality. He loved me deeply. He just didn’t realize that he wasn’t paying attention because he was distracted by just about everything else.

the message of spiritual abuse is always the same: "God won't love you, unless ..." or "God will only love you if ...

Love can rebuild the world, they say, so everything’s possible when it comes to love.

The Mask We often pair the turmoil in our mind With a calm exterior, Hoping that the mask Will serve as a floodgate To hold back the chaos Of our swirling thoughts

I’m only in love with you. I would take my life apart and rebuild it to fit you all over again if you needed me to.

His vulnerability allowed me to let my guard down, and gently and methodically, he tore apart my well-constructed dam. Waves of tender feelings were lapping over the top and slipping through the cracks. The feelings flooded through and spilled into me. It was frightening opening myself up to feel love for someone again. My heart pounded hard and thudded audibly in my chest. I was sure he could hear it. Ren’s expression changed as he watched my face. His look of sadness was replaced by one of concern for me. What was the next step? What should I do? What do I say? How do I share what I’m feeling? I remembered watching romance movies with my mom, and our favorite saying was “shut up and kiss her already!” We’d both get frustrated when the hero or heroine wouldn’t do what was so obvious to the two of us, and as soon as a tense, romantic moment occurred, we’d both repeat our mantra. I could hear my mom’s humor-filled voice in my mind giving me the same advice: “Kells, shut up and kiss him already!” So, I got a grip on myself, and before I changed my mind, I leaned over and kissed him. He froze. He didn’t kiss me back. He didn’t push me away. He just stopped…moving. I pulled back, saw the shock on his face, and instantly regretted my boldness. I stood up and walked away, embarrassed. I wanted to put some distance between us as I frantically tried to rebuild the walls around my heart. I heard him move. He slid his hand under my elbow and turned me around. I couldn’t look at him. I just stared at his bare feet. He put a finger under my chin and tried to nudge my head up, but I still refused to meet his gaze. “Kelsey. Look at me.” Lifting my eyes, they traveled from his feet to a white button in the middle of his shirt. “Look at me.” My eyes continued their journey. They drifted past the golden-bronze skin of his chest, his throat, and then settled on his beautiful face. His cobalt blue eyes searched mine, questioning. He took a step closer. My breath hitched in my throat. Reaching out a hand, he slid it around my waist slowly. His other hand cupped my chin. Still watching my face, he placed his palm lightly on my cheek and traced the arch of my cheekbone with his thumb. The touch was sweet, hesitant, and careful, the way you might try to touch a frightened doe. His face was full of wonder and awareness. I quivered. He paused just a moment more, then smiled tenderly, dipped is head, and brushed his lips lightly against mine. He kissed me softly, tentatively, just a mere whisper of a kiss. His other hand slid down to my waist too. I timidly touched his arms with my fingertips. He was warm, and his skin was smooth. He gently pulled me closer and pressed me lightly against his chest. I gripped his arms. He sighed with pleasure, and deepened the kiss. I melted into him. How was I breathing? His summery sandalwood scent surrounded me. Everywhere he touched me, I felt tingly and alive. I clutched his arms fervently. His lips never leaving mine, Ren took both of my arms and wrapped them, one by one, around his neck. Then he trailed one of his hands down my bare arm to my waist while the other slid into my hair. Before I realized what he was planning to do, he picked me up with one arm and crushed me to his chest. I have no idea how long we kissed. It felt like a mere second, and it also felt like forever. My bare feet were dangling several inches from the floor. He was holding all my body weight easily with one arm. I buried my fingers into his hair and felt a rumble in his chest. It was similar to the purring sound he made as a tiger. After that, all coherent thought fled and time stopped.

I understood the therapists were trying to rebuild Paul's vocabulary, beginning wit the rudiments, but Paul found it taxing, boring, and disturbingly condescending. His loss of language didn't mean he was any less a grown-up with adult feelings, experiences, worries, and problems. [p. 144]

You make out with a boy because he’s cute, but he has no substance, no words to offer you. His mouth tastes like stale beer and false promises. When he touches your chin, you offer your mouth up like a flower to to be plucked, all covered in red lipstick to attract his eye. When he reaches his hand down your shirt, he stops, hand on boob, and squeezes, like you’re a fruit he’s trying to juice. He doesn’t touch anything but skin, does not feel what’s within. In the morning, he texts you only to say, “I think I left the rest of my beer at your place, but it’s cool, you can drink it. Last night was fun.” You kiss a girl because she’s new. Because she’s different and you’re twenty two, trying something else out because it’s all failed before. After spending six weekends together, you call her, only to be answered by a harsh beep informing you that her number has been disconnected. You learn that success doesn’t come through experimenting with your sexuality, and you’re left with a mouth full of ruin and more evidence that you are out of tune. You fall for a boy who is so nice, you don’t think he can do any harm. When he mentions marriage and murder in the same sentence, you say, “Okay, okay, okay.” When you make a joke he does not laugh, but tilts his head and asks you how many drinks you’ve had in such a loving tone that you sober up immediately. He leaves bullet in your blood and disappears, saying, “Who wants a girl that’s filled with holes?” You find out that a med student does. He spots you reading in a bar and compliments you on the dust spilling from your mouth. When you see his black doctor’s bag posed loyally at his side, you ask him if he’s got the tools to fix a mangled nervous system. He smiles at you, all teeth, and tells you to come with him. In the back of his car, he covers you in teethmarks and says, “There, now don’t you feel whole again.” But all the incisions do is let more cold air into your bones. You wonder how many times you will collapse into ruins before you give up on rebuilding. You wonder if maybe you’d have more luck living amongst your rubble instead of looking for someone to repair it. The next time someone promises to flood you with light to erase your dark, you insist them you’re fine the way you are. They tell you there’s hope, that they had holes in their chest too, that they know how to patch them up. When they offer you a bottle in exchange for your mouth, you tell them you’re not looking for a way out. No, thank you, you tell them. Even though you are filled with ruins and rubble, you are as much your light as you are your dark.

But if there's one thing I learned from my mother, it's that losing everything is not the end of the story. She taught me that lost civilizations can be rebuilt from zero, even if the task will require many generations of work.

It is a cumulative tragedy, the same tragedy that blights the entire country. With so many dead bodies, how do you begin to rebuild? How do you trust enough to hope? And how do you hold on to life when it no longer seems worth living?

Of Ruin and Renewal We are souls Of ruin and renewal Sorting through the rubble Of our painful past. We are souls Of ruin and renewal Waiting for the dust To settle at last We are souls Of ruin and renewal Searching for eyes that see us And walk through the debris We are souls Of ruin and renewal, We rebuild, we revive, We repurpose our own story.

I had to revise all my feelings once again. I pulled out the dregs of affection from the glass of misunderstanding to rebuild my faith. I had to reinvent the cause for love, as it were. It was something I had to draw inside me, a real portrait of her, not just the inspiration but the girl as a whole, with all her shortcomings to be able to love her again.

Instead he felt only love. And that was the miracle. The surge in hatred since the war began had created more love around it. It was indomitable, mad, and everlasting, scattered through the rich and the poor, deep and calm in the Quakers, hot and fierce in the mothers, faithful in the warriors, wistful in the pets, seeping its way into mercy and atrocity, destroying things, rebuilding them.

Not caring about our own pain and the pain of others is not working. How much longer are we willing to keep pulling drowning people out of the river one by one, rather than walking to the headwaters of the river to find the source of the pain? What will it take for us to let go of that earned self-righteousness and travel together to the cradle of the pain that is throwing all of us in at such a rate that we couldn’t possibly save everyone? Pain is unrelenting. It will get our attention. Despite our attempts to drown it in addiction, to physically beat it out of one another, to suffocate it with success and material trappings, or to strangle it with our hate, pain will find a way to make itself known. Pain will subside only when we acknowledge it and care for it. Addressing it with love and compassion would take only a minuscule percentage of the energy it takes to fight it, but approaching pain head-on is terrifying. Most of us were not taught how to recognize pain, name it, and be with it. Our families and culture believed that the vulnerability that it takes to acknowledge pain was weakness, so we were taught anger, rage, and denial instead. But what we know now is that when we deny our emotion, it owns us. When we own our emotion, we can rebuild and find our way through the pain. Sometimes owning our pain and bearing witness to struggle means getting angry. When we deny ourselves the right to be angry, we deny our pain. There are a lot of coded shame messages in the rhetoric of “Why so hostile?” “Don’t get hysterical,” “I’m sensing so much anger!” and “Don’t take it so personally.” All of these responses are normally code for Your emotion or opinion is making me uncomfortable or Suck it up and stay quiet. One response to this is “Get angry and stay angry!” I haven’t seen that advice borne out in the research. What I’ve found is that, yes, we all have the right and need to feel and own our anger. It’s an important human experience.

In the end, we return to the question, just how much do you love truth? Do you really love truth or are you just curious? Do you love it enough to rebuild your understanding to conform to a reality that doesn’t fit your current beliefs, and doesn’t feel 120% happy? Do you love truth enough to continue seeking even when it hurts, when it reveals aspects of yourself (or human society, or the universe) that are shocking, complex and disturbing, or humbling, glorious and amazing – or even, when truth is far beyond human mind itself? Just how much do we love truth? It’s a good question to ask ourselves, I think.

Stories change. Just like people change. We change when we suffer, when we take, when we give, when we love. When you lose the object of your love, your normal will be perennially changed; there’s no returning to the old anymore. You have to rebuild stronger walls, change your expectations, and wait for the sunlight.

First, this is what we welcome now above all, that human beings are making a new start here and there to rebuild life with the strength and the faith of their indestructible hearts. There are others who could try this but who still just stand there, staring and trying to make sense of it all, and for whom sadness and sloth finally become utterly insurmountable. And this even though, based on feeling and reflection, only one thing is urgently needed: to attach oneself somewhere to nature with unconditional purpose, to what is strong, striving, and bright, and to move forward without guile, even if it can happen only in the least important, daily matters.

I know that forgiveness, growth and understanding can be found in even the darkest circumstances. I know the love has power. power to break and ruin, and power to rebuild. I know the what is meant to be, will be. you can’t rush it. you can’t fake it. you just need to wait for the storm to pass and pick up the pieces when the time is right.

The reality is that you will grieve forever. You will not ‘get over’ the loss of a loved one; you will learn to live with it. You will heal and you will rebuild yourself around the loss you have suffered. You will be whole again but you will never be the same. Nor should you be the same nor would you want to.” ― Elizabeth Kubler-Ross and David Kessler

Breaking and rebuilding happen simultaneously. So when you are crumbling, remember it's from the bottom we rise again.

The deepest sense of life's meaning and purpose arises from our interdependence and, in turn, our willingness to relate to others and respond to their needs. [p49]

She would fold herself around him to protect him. She would drink out all the darkness from him and pour out all her light on him. She would rebuild the whole world for him.

Once trust is broken, it is difficult and sometimes impossible to rebuild.

You become profound, when you love yourself more, You look at yourself in the broken mirrors. Trying to rebuild a final puzzle, In which the crumbs are feeling flattered.

You are destiny to be; Rebuilder of great home. Restorer of mighty nation.

Our relationships should be defined by trust and mutual obligation, grounded in the unchanging love and faithfulness of Christ.

The connective tissue of love and like is gone, and rebuilding on sand is a fool’s errand. To save a marriage you have to want to.

your first love was a learning experience. Or so my mom said. They’re not the ones you marry, she told me. They’re the ones who break you, so you can rebuild yourself better. Stronger.

The surrender to Nature's irrational, strangely confused formations produces in us a feeling of inner harmony with the force responsible for these phenomena. We soon fall prey to the temptation of thinking of them as being our own moods, our own creations, and see the boundaries separating us from Nature begin to quiver and dissolve. We become acquainted with that state of mind in which we are unable to decide whether the images on our retina are the result of impressions coming from without or from within. Nowhere as in this exercise can we discover so easily and so simply to what extent we are creative, to what extent our soul partakes of the constant creation of the world. For it is the same indivisible divinity that is active through us and in Nature, and if the outside world were to be destroyed, a single one of us would be capable of rebuilding it: mountain and stream, tree and leaf, root and flower, yes, every natural form is latent within us, originates in the soul whose essence is eternity, whose essence we cannot know but which often intimates itself to us as the power to love and create.

Let me sum up what I’ve learned about creativity from the world of Wholehearted living and loving: “I’m not very creative” doesn’t work. There’s no such thing as creative people and non-creative people. There are only people who use their creativity and people who don’t. Unused creativity doesn’t just disappear. It lives within us until it’s expressed, neglected to death, or suffocated by resentment and fear. The only unique contribution that we will ever make in this world will be born of our creativity. If we want to make meaning, we need to make art. Cook, write, draw, doodle, paint, scrapbook, take pictures, collage, knit, rebuild an engine, sculpt, dance, decorate, act, sing—it doesn’t matter. As long as we’re creating, we’re cultivating meaning. Literally

Trust is the complication that delays love, it’s the bridge that joins two people together, so when that bridge burns down, it takes time to rebuild it, and that’s fine. You spend time rebuilding it, laying down the foundation again and putting all the time, blood, sweat, and tears into it, but here’s the thing. If you rebuild it, you better make sure the other is willing to cross it for you.

Diffugere Nives Horace, Odes, iv, 7 The snows are fled away, leaves on the shaws And grasses in the mead renew their birth, The river to the river-bed withdraws, And altered is the fashion of the earth. The Nymphs and Graces three put off their fear And unapparelled in the woodland play. The swift hour and the brief prime of the year Say to the soul, Thou wast not born for aye. Thaw follows frost; hard on the heel of spring Treads summer sure to die, for hard on hers Comes autumn with his apples scattering; Then back to wintertide, when nothing stirs. But oh, whate'er the sky-led seasons mar, Moon upon moon rebuilds it with her beams; Come we where Tullus and where Ancus are And good Aeneas, we are dust and dreams. Torquatus, if the gods in heaven shall add The morrow to the day, what tongue has told? Feast then thy heart, for what thy heart has had The fingers of no heir will ever hold. When thou descendest once the shades among, The stern assize and equal judgment o'er, Not thy long lineage nor thy golden tongue, No, nor thy righteousness, shall friend thee more. Night holds Hippolytus the pure of stain, Diana steads him nothing, he must stay; And Theseus leaves Pirithous in the chain The love of comrades cannot take away.

Love me, I'll never disappear Erase me, I may never reappear Test me, your cries I'll never hear You say you can't have me, truth is you gave up hope Our time together, was it wasted? nope Understand? I'm feeling off the scope Had to give a second chance Understood now why I shouldn't Rebuilding my soul, can't promise for sure Trying to not care, but it don't work Maybe you could've believed in us Except, well, you didn't

Things happen in life to get our attention, to make us wake up. What does it say that I had to lose so much before I had to break down enough to rebuild? I think it says that the thing that got me here—this incredible toughness—was almost the thing that did me in. I got to a place where I could no longer just muscle through; I could either bend, or break. I got here because I needed all of this to become who I am now. I had been holding on to so many misconceptions about myself all my life: that I wasn't valuable, that I didn't deserve to be anywhere good, whether that meant in a loving relationship on my own terms, or in a great film with actors I respected who knew what they were doing. The narrative I believed was that I was unworthy and contaminated. And it wasn't true. There are two reasons I wanted to tell this story, the story of how I learned to surrender. First, because it's mine. It doesn't belong to the tabloids, or my mom, or the men I've married, or the people who've loved or hated my movies, or even my children. My story is mine alone. I'm the only one who was there for all of it, and I decided to claim the power to tell it on my own terms. The second reason is that even though it's mine, maybe some part of this story is yours too. I've had extraordinary luck in this life, both bad and good. Putting it all down in writing makes me realize how crazy a lot of it has been, how improbable. But we all suffer and we all triumph and we all get to choose how we hold both.

Spilled Ink It seemed unfair And unfinished, And now it would always be tragic. Because you kept Loving them Even when the story ended. And there was nowhere To spill the ink Of the heartbreak their absence wrote.

Ada had always believed that her mother, in rebuilding the house only three miles from where it had once been, had kept her world piteously small, but maybe what mattered, Ada thought as she gazed at it now, was not how big or how small her mother's world was, but that her mother had managed to keep it at all. It must have been no trifling thing to carve out a space of her own, to protect it and hold within it the people she loved.

Woman" this head like a saucer decorated with everything as lip to lip we hang in mechanical joy; my hands blaze with arias but i think of books on anatomy, and i fall from you as nations burn in anger… to recover from most pitiful error and rebuild, this is it loss and mending until they take us in. the glory of a saturday afternoon like biting into an old peach and you walk across the room heavy with everything except my love.

In a family, when I as son, husband, or father, express love toward you, I do not do so in order to assure myself of love in return. I do not help my son in order to be able to claim assistance from him when I am old; I do it because he and I are in the world together, we are one flesh. Similarly in a workplace, persons who work together form families-at-work. When you and I are working together, and the foreman suddenly discharges you, and I find myself putting down my tools or stopping my machine before I have had time to think—why do I do this? Is it not because, as I actually experience the event, your discharge does not happen only to you but also happens to us?3

All I want to do is, help you rebuild yourself. Restructure your devastated heart. For I know, it's impossible to build the exact same shrine once destroyed in a place but at least you can make a garden of bliss over a wreckage

She was going to stay, an she was going to love Eoin, always, because that's what living people do. They shatter and rebuild, shatter and rebuild, shatter and rebuild until they are old and worn and stooped from the work of it.

Don't be afraid to invite others into your grief story. I promise, they can help you carry the weight of your pain. Moreover, it will be an honor for them to do so. By talking to someone about your grief, you empower them to help you.

We will not rebuild our cities and restore our communities if we’re comparing what is in front of us to what is in front of someone else. Critiquing how someone else is building, instead of looking at what God has given us to build, is the surefire way to guarantee that nothing gets built at all. The Enemy hopes we’re too distracted by what other people have and what other people are doing to discover the beauty and power of who we are, what we have, and what God has called us to do.

Do I think it was inherent nobility that brought us out here?” He shook his head. “Maybe. I don’t call it nobility, though. I think it’s our innate human need to champion the underdog. We are constant optimists. We’re the emotional descendents of the caveman who stood defiant in the front of the wooly mammoth. We rebuild cities at the base of Vesuvius, get back on the bicycle when we fall off, whack that hornet’s nest every spring. Humans cheer for the couldn’t be, believe in the shouldn’t be. We love causes; the harder, the more lost they are, the more we love them. Is that nobility?Maybe. Maybe it’s a pernicious genetic defect that makes our species susceptible to shared delusion. Whatever it is, it keeps life interesting.

Let me sum up what I’ve learned about creativity from the world of Wholehearted living and loving: “I’m not very creative” doesn’t work. There’s no such thing as creative people and non-creative people. There are only people who use their creativity and people who don’t. Unused creativity doesn’t just disappear. It lives within us until it’s expressed, neglected to death, or suffocated by resentment and fear. The only unique contribution that we will ever make in this world will be born of our creativity. If we want to make meaning, we need to make art. Cook, write, draw, doodle, paint, scrapbook, take pictures, collage, knit, rebuild an engine, sculpt, dance, decorate, act, sing—it doesn’t matter. As long as we’re creating, we’re cultivating meaning.

The only bright side I could find in possibly never feeling him again was that your first love was a learning experience. Or so my mom said. They’re not the ones you marry, she told me. They’re the ones who break you, so you can rebuild yourself better. Stronger.

Starting a family doesn’t mean we leave the fight. It means we dare to rebuild our nation, even on a battlefield. I believe that in a world so often restless and cynical, saying yes to romance, to love, to the everyday tasks of marriage and family is its own quiet revolution. Defying the forces of evil, one man and one woman making a little home where vulnerability, tenderness, and laughter can thrive is a subversive act. It also means creating a family is the supreme act of defiance—a celebration of life in the midst of war.

You entered my life as quietly as the morning mist, and just as silently, you slipped away. I cherish every moment we shared, but your departure has left me broken. Now, I’ll spend the rest of my days picking up the pieces, trying to rebuild and complete myself again.

Take this. When you’re ready, I want to put it on your finger. I want you to meet my son. I want you to let me bring you into my world – because I need you there. The media crap is just PR. Piece of cake for you, trust me. There are a hundred people ready to help us nail it. Let me help you rebuild your faith, because that’s who you are, and I love who you are. ‘Remember last fall, when you needed to be reckless, and I told you to use me? Well, now, it’s time to be fearless. I can’t promise that you won’t be hurt again, because life can suck. And, sometimes, it hurts like hell. I’m asking you to have faith in one thing, for now: the fact that when we’re alone, I’m just Reid, and you’re just Dori, and we’re going to love each other for the rest of our lives.’ She’s staring at me, the velvet-covered box clutched in her hand. I lean forward and kiss her, tasting her tears or my own, I don’t know which. ‘Come to me when you’re ready to be fearless. Unless you can look me in the eye right now and tell me you don’t love me.’ Lower lip trembling, she says nothing, and I kiss her again before I leave.

You are blinded by the love of the office you hold, Cornelius! You place too much importance, and you always have done, on the so-called purity of blood! You fail to recognize that it matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be!...I tell you now - take the steps I have suggested, and you will be remembered, in office or out, as one of the bravest and greatest Ministers of Magic we have ever known. Fail to act - and history will remember you as the man who stepped aside and allowed Voldemort to destroy the world we have tried to rebuild!

She shook with laughter. “I might have something else in mind now.” Rowan let out a growl, and nipped at her ear, her neck. “Good. I do, too.” “And tomorrow?” she asked breathlessly, and they both paused to look at each other. To smile. “Will you work to rebuild this kingdom, this world, with me tomorrow?” “Tomorrow, and every day after that.” For every day of the thousand blessed years they were granted together. And beyond. Aelin kissed him again and took his hand, guiding him into the castle. Into their home. “To whatever end?” she breathed. Rowan followed her, as he had his entire life, long before they had ever met, before their souls had sparked into existence. “To whatever end, Fireheart.” He glanced sidelong at her. “Can I give you a suggestion for what we should rebuild first?” Aelin smiled, and eternity opened before them, shining and glorious and lovely. “Tell me tomorrow.

The fundamental love that a man needs in his life, if he is to have steady spiritual ease is the love of place where he was a child, and first became aware of the light, and the objects which the light illumined ... It is the hurt child become man that seeks the wilderness, wherein to rebuild himself.

Ask a woman who she is, and she’ll tell you who she loves, who she serves, and what she does. I am a mother, a wife, a sister, a friend, a career woman. The fact that we define ourselves by our roles is what keeps the world spinning. It’s also what makes us untethered and afraid. If a woman defines herself as a wife, what happens if her partner leaves? If a woman defines herself as a mother, what happens when the kids leave for college? If a woman defines herself as a career woman, what happens when the company folds? Who we are is perpetually being taken from us, so we live in fear instead of peace. We cling too tightly, close our eyes to what we need to look at hard, avoid questions that need to be asked, and in a million ways insist to our friends, partners, and children that the purpose of their existence is to define us. We build sandcastles and then try to live inside them, fearing the inevitable tide. Answering the question Who do I love? is not enough. We must live lives of our own. To live a life of her own, each woman must also answer: What do I love? What makes me come alive? What is beauty to me, and when do I take the time to fill up with it? Who is the soul beneath all of these roles? Each woman must answer these questions now, before the tide comes. Sandcastles are beautiful, but we cannot live inside them. Because the tide rises. That’s what the tide does. We must remember: I am the builder, not the castle. I am separate and whole, over here, eyes on the horizon, sun on my shoulders, welcoming the tide. Building, rebuilding. Playfully. Lightly. Never changing. Always changing.

Atlantis People would whisper about us And our fall from grace As our world fell to ruin And our worst fears were realized, We’d be submerged and forgotten The stuff of speculation. Legend at best, We were a lost city, Singing our siren ballads Of heartbreak and woe From the depths below, We were here! We were here. We were here…

My exuberance breaks things, breaks me. It marches me up to people and elicits from me declarations of love, if only to give me the satisfaction of disappointment, to know that I am in love. I am forever building up this edifice of love and happiness, which would get to be as big as the world, or bigger, if it weren't for the storms, eruptions, convulsions, that tear it all down again. When any of it comes down, it all comes down. Although these catastrophic failures deeply wound me, still I am grateful for the opportunity to rebuild, and to renew my trust with the world. I do everything on the scale of the world, as the only thing commensurate to my happiness.

It's an old story," Julia says, leaning back in her chair. "Only for me, it's new. I went to school for industrial design. All my life I've been fascinated by chairs - I know it sounds silly, but it's true. Form meets purpose in a chair. My parents thought I was crazy, but somehow I convinced them to pay my way to California. To study furniture design. I was all excited at first. It was totally unlike me to go so far away from home. But I was sick of the cold and sick of the snow. I figured a little sun might change my life. So I headed down to L.A. and roomed with a friend of an ex-girlfriend of my brother's. She was an aspiring radio actress, which meant she was home a lot. At first, I loved it. I didn't even let the summer go by. I dove right into my classes. Soon enough, I learned I couldn't just focus on chairs. I had to design spoons and toilet-bowl cleaners and thermostats. The math never bothered me, but the professors did. They could demolish you in a second without giving you a clue if how to rebuild. I spent more and more time in the studio, with other crazed students who guarded their projects like toy-jealous kids. I started to go for walks. Long walks. I couldn't go home because my roommate was always there. The sun was too much for me, so I'd stay indoors. I spent hours in supermarkets, walking aisle to aisle, picking up groceries and then putting them back. I went to bowling alleys and pharmacies. I rode buses that kept their lights on all night. I sat in Laundromats because once upon a time Laundromats made me happy. But now the hum of the machines sounded like life going past. Finally, one night I sat too long in the laundry. The woman who folded in the back - Alma - walked over to me and said, 'What are you doing here, girl?' And I knew that there wasn't any answer. There couldn't be any answer. And that's when I knew it was time to go.

Depression is itself destructive, and it breeds destructive impulses: I am easily disappointed in people who don't get it and sometimes make the mistake of telling off those who don't get it and those who have frustrated me. After any given depression, there's the need for a lot of cleanup. I remember that I love friends I had thought of letting go. I try to rebuild what I have wasted.

Even though it may look like the wicked is gaining ground, God is still in control. We need to pray for our nations, pray for others, pray for forgiveness and mercy over people. We need to love no matter who we are talking to, whether they are Atheist, Moslems, Lesbians, Homosexuals or Pagans. We need to love them and share the love of God with them and not judge and see if we can rebuild our broken nations.

For it is the same indivisible divinity that is active through us and in Nature, and if the outside world were to be destroyed, a single one of us would be capable of rebuilding it: mountain and stream, tree and leaf, root and flower, yes, every natural form is latent within us, originates in the soul whose essence is eternity, whose essence we cannot know but which often intimates itself to us as the power to love and create.

Love is not static. We grow dissatisfied and move apart; affection returns and we pull together again. Some people, ignorant of the process, pull away when the good times end and assume the bad times will last forever. These people flee, mope, or drift into affairs. Others see the ups and downs as part of a dynamic process, which, when anticipated and understood, can enrich and revitalize their relationship, even give it an added punch.

We’d fought the living dead to a stalemate and, eventually, future generations might be able to reinhabit the planet with little or no physical danger. Yes, our defensive strategies had saved the human race, but what about the human spirit? The living dead had taken more from us than land and loved ones. They’d robbed us of our confidence as the planet’s dominant life-form. We were a shaken, broken species, driven to the edge of extinction and grateful only for a tomorrow with perhaps a little less suffering than today. Was this the legacy we would leave to our children, a level of anxiety and self-doubt not seen since our simian ancestors cowered in the tallest trees? What kind of world would they rebuild? Would they rebuild at all? Could they continue to progress, knowing that they had been powerless to reclaim their future? And what if that future saw another rise of the living dead? Would our descendants rise to meet them in battle, or simply crumple in meek surrender and accept what they believe to be their inevitable extinction? For this reason alone, we had to reclaim our planet. We had to prove to ourselves that we could do it, and leave that proof as this war’s greatest monument. The long, hard road back to humanity, or the regressive ennui of Earth’s once-proud primates. That was the choice, and it had to be made now.

Sometimes healing looks like falling apart. Sometimes falling apart is the path to what can be built. Sometimes, we go through the darkest nights, and there is nobody but the man in the moon to hear. He always listens. Now you listen. There is not enough air in the room, but you are breathing. There is nobody here, but you are held. You have broken, and the world is breaking, and we will always rebuild. Do you hear me, love? We will always rebuild.

Aelin kissed him again and took his hand, guiding him into the castle. Into their home. “To whatever end?” she breathed. Rowan followed her, as he had his entire life, long before they had ever met, before their souls had sparked into existence. “To whatever end, Fireheart.” He glanced sidelong at her. “Can I give you a suggestion for what we should rebuild first?” Aelin smiled, and eternity opened before them, shining and glorious and lovely. “Tell me tomorrow.

I had to rebuild my mind, my life, my fucking karma, and my psyche. I had to not hate my reflection. I had to not blame myself for the death of my sister and the death of my father and the man he killed. Those aren’t overnight ventures. And bringing the woman who you consider to be your endgame—the love of your fucking life—along for that ride isn’t something you do. Love is letting go when you need to let go and hoping that their life turns out better without you in it.

Your identity is altered, even though you don’t want it to be. You are not the same person, and some of your friends will relate to you differently. Redefining ourselves, that is, building a new identity after the death of a loved one, is another significant task commonly forgotten in grief work. It’s okay to be a different person than when you started your journey through loss. So ask yourself how much your great loss has affected your identity as a person and how you will rebuild it.

Pain will subside only when we acknowledge it and care for it. Addressing it with love and compassion would take only a minuscule percentage of the energy it takes to fight it, but approaching pain head-on is terrifying. Most of us were not taught to recognize pain, name it, and be with it. Our families and culture believed that the vulnerability that it takes to acknowledge pain was weakness, so we were taught anger, rage, and denial instead. But what we know now is that when we deny our emotion, we can rebuild and find our way through the pain.

...[M]ost of us have figured out that we have to do what's in front of us and keep doing it. We clean up beaches after oil spills. We rebuild whole towns after hurricanes and tornadoes. We return calls and library books. We get people water. Some of us even pray. Every time we choose the good action or response, the decent, the valuable, it builds, incrementally, to renewal, resurrection, the place of newness, freedom, justice. The equation is: life, death, resurrection, hope. The horror is real, and so you make casseroles for your neighbor, organize an overseas clothing drive, and do your laundry. You can also offer to do other people's laundry if they have recently had any random babies or surgeries. We live stitch by stitch, when we're lucky. If you fixate on the big picture, the whole shebang, the overview, you miss the stitching. And maybe the stitching is crude, or it is unraveling, but if it were precise, we'd pretend that life was just fine and running like a Swiss watch. That's not helpful if on the inside our understanding is that life is more often a cuckoo clock with rusty gears.

We think our memories are pure and uncorrupted, but this is a delusion. Every time we access a memory we rebuild it. Every time it’s rebuilt, things are added and things are lost. In fact, the more we remember something, the less resemblance that memory bears to the original event. We know that memory is fallible—or we know it, but we don’t really believe it. If someone says we remembered something wrong, we argue over it! We fight for the honor of our memories. Maybe it’s like religion, or love. The more flimsy something is, the more fiercely we believe in it.

Whatever the case, it works for him. He loses a wife, and wins another quickly. He loses a fish collection, and rebuilds a bigger one. He is promoted to higher and higher offices. The awards and medals start clattering in, for teaching, for ichthyology, for contributions to higher ed. An odd alchemy of delusion right before your eyes. Little lies transmuting into bronze, silver, gold. Forget millennia of warnings to stay humble; maybe this is just how it works in a godless system. Maybe David Starr Jordan is proof that a steady dose of hubris is the best way of overcoming doomed odds.

Moving on. It’s a phrase I obsess over: what it means, what it doesn’t, how to do it for real. It seemed so easy at first, too easy, and it’s starting to dawn on me that moving on is a myth—a lie you sell yourself on when your life has become unendurable. It’s the delusion that you can build a barricade between yourself and your past—that you can ignore your pain, that you can bury your great love with a new relationship, that you are among the lucky few who get to skip over the hard work of grieving and healing and rebuilding—and that all this, when it catches up to you, won’t come for blood. —

When a child estranges herself from you (there’s that word Eleanor tries not to employ when speaking of her situation, but it applies) you can allow it to crush you. Or you rebuild your world—smaller maybe, less ambitious, imperfect, with space for sorrow, but also occasional joy. Maybe you see your child only once a year. Maybe never. Maybe she doesn’t want you to see your grandchildren. She may rewrite the history of her childhood, casting you as the source of her greatest trauma. She gets to have her story. But nobody can take away yours—that you loved her, you tried your best. The door remains open.

After God, who is the central core pillar to any Christian marriage, there are four important marital relationship foundations. These are: * Self-Esteem - if you don't love yourself you will find it almost impossible to accept love from others. * Friendship - a strong friendship will sustain your marriage even when feelings of love are harder to find. * Laughter - it will improve your quality of life, your health and your relationships * Romance - feeling close to your partner can be the glue which holds your relationship together through the rough patches, but the absence of romance causes a void that problems will easily fill.

Painful Misinterpretations of ADHD Symptoms and Motives Good communication isn’t just a matter of saying the right words or starting your assumptions in the same places. Correct interpretation is critical, and in this realm couples dealing with ADHD may fail miserably for two basic reasons: An ADHD symptom is lurking that they don’t realize is influencing their interaction (and subsequent interpretation of the interaction). They “live in the world” so differently that they incorrectly assume they understand the motives that are influencing frustrating behaviors. One of the most common misinterpretations is feeling as if an ADHD spouse doesn’t love his partner anymore because he isn’t paying attention to her.

If you had asked Dan during that period whether he still loved his wife, he would have looked at you in total confusion and said, “Of course!” Although his wife was at that very moment wallowing in despair over his treatment of her, he perceived things to be fine between them. This isn’t because he is dense; it’s just that after a lifetime of having people mad at or disappointed with him, Dan weathers periods of anger and criticism by mostly ignoring them. And, because people with ADHD don’t receive and process information in a hierarchical way, Maria’s suffering enters his mind at about the same level as everything else he perceives—the lights on the radio clock, the dog barking, the computer, the worrisome project he has at work. “But wait!” you say. “It doesn’t matter—she’s still alone!” You would be right. Regardless of whether Dan was intentionally ignoring his wife or just distracted, actions speak louder than words. She becomes lonely and unhappy, and her needs must be addressed. But recognizing and then identifying the correct underlying problem is critical to finding the right solution. In marriage, just like in middle school math, if you pick the wrong problem to solve, you generally don’t end up with a satisfactory result. Furthermore, the hurt caused by the incorrect interpretation that he no longer loves her elicits a series of bad feelings and behaviors that compound the problem. This is the critical dynamic of symptom–response–response at work.

Michael Ward knows. Ward loves railroads. His loves his own railroad company, CSX, which traces its origins to 1827 when the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad was formed as the nation’s first common carrier. He traces his own origins at CSX back thirty-seven years, when he took an analyst job as a newly minted Harvard Business School M.B.A., rising to become chairman, president, and CEO in 2003. And he loves the whole American freight rail industry. “Railroaders are like farmers,” Ward declares. “You heard about the farmer that won the lottery? They said to him, ‘Oh my gosh, you won the lottery; what are you going to do with all that money?’ He said, ‘I’m a farmer and I love farming, and I’m going to farm until every penny of it is gone.’ And I say railroaders are like that. When we make more money, we’re going to invest more back into the infrastructure, so we can strengthen the railroad and grow the business.” Ward may sound like a press release, but that’s exactly how he talks, and why he’s a major industry spokesman. He lavishes praise on industry performance: “While we’ve improved the profitability of the industry, we’ve also cut rates in half of what they were in 1980 for our customers, on an inflation-adjusted basis. We’re providing a more economical product to them, and it’s safer and more reliable. Over the years, as an industry, our train accident rate is down 80 percent; our personal injury rate is down 85 percent; and we’re doing this with about one-third of the workforce we had in 1980.” He calls the industry “the envy of the world.

Jack coughed slightly and offered his hand. “Hi, uh. I’m Jack.” Kim took it. “Jack what?” “Huh?” “Your last name, silly.” “Jackson.” She blinked at him. “Your name is Jack Jackson?” He blushed. “No, uh, my first name’s Rhett, but I hate it, so…” He gestured to the chair and she sat. Her dress rode up several inches, exposing pleasing long lines of creamy skin. “Well, Jack, what’s your field of study?” “Biological Engineering, Genetics, and Microbiology. Post-doc. I’m working on a research project at the institute.” “Really? Oh, uh, my apple martini’s getting a little low.” “I’ve got that, one second.” He scurried to the bar and bought her a fresh one. She sipped and managed to make it look not only seductive but graceful as well. “What do you want to do after you’re done with the project?” Kim continued. “Depends on what I find.” She sent him a simmering smile. “What are you looking for?” Immediately, Jack’s eyes lit up and his posture straightened. “I started the project with the intention of learning how to increase the reproduction of certain endangered species. I had interest in the idea of cloning, but it proved too difficult based on the research I compiled, so I went into animal genetics and cellular biology. It turns out the animals with the best potential to combine genes were reptiles because their ability to lay eggs was a smoother transition into combining the cells to create a new species, or one with a similar ancestry that could hopefully lead to rebuilding extinct animals via surrogate birth or in-vitro fertilization. We’re on the edge of breaking that code, and if we do, it would mean that we could engineer all kinds of life and reverse what damage we’ve done to the planet’s ecosystem.” Kim stared. “Right. Would you excuse me for a second?” She wiggled off back to her pack of friends by the bar. Judging by the sniggering and the disgusted glances he was getting, she wasn’t coming back. Jack sighed and finished off his beer, massaging his forehead. “Yes, brilliant move. You blinded her with science. Genius, Jack.” He ordered a second one and finished it before he felt smallish hands on his shoulders and a pair of soft lips on his cheek. He turned to find Kamala had returned, her smile unnaturally bright in the black lights glowing over the room. “So…how did it go with Kim?” He shot her a flat look. “You notice the chair is empty.” Kamala groaned. “You talked about the research project, didn’t you?” “No!” She glared at him. “…maybe…” “You’re so useless, Jack.” She paused and then tousled his hair a bit. “Cheer up. The night’s still young. I’m not giving up on you.” He smiled in spite of himself. “Yet.” Her brown eyes flashed. “Never.

The worst thing that you can do when you are new in recovery is to get involved in a relationship. You have to think that you are in the process of learning to love yourself all over again, and that your emotions are raw, no longer drowned out by using drugs or drinking. You have to learn how to live sober. I have seen far too many people relapse early in recovery because they didn't take time to discover their true selves. Take time for yourself, take time to rebuild you and focus on building a strong foundation. Work to become responsible, independent, and learn to love yourself first. I can't stress this enough, get your life in order before attempting a new relationship. Also remember that once you become the person who God intended you to be, the person who you find attractive, will be a lot better quality of an individual because you have discovered your worth, and you won't settle for less!

Why do you keep looking at me and touching me when you know that I fully understand the price of losing that?” Alexandria whispered. “Why are you ripping me open every day when I’m trying so hard to patch myself closed? It was going to be easy, I was just going to grow up alone and leave. But then you kicked your way into my life and threw your fragile friends in front of me and now I am tearing out pieces of myself to try to figure out how to get back to where I started. I spent months trying to unlearn loving you, trying to forget the strength of your hands and the worlds in your eyes. But there is no part of me left that you have not touched. … Why are you rebuilding the tragedy that built me?” It was a question, and a threat. Ryann squeezed her eyes tight and said the thing that had hidden behind her teeth for months. “Because I had to. Because I’m selfish. Because I want you more than I care about whether it hurts us or not.

The Three Times You Rebuilt Your House-shaped Heart The first time your house-shaped heart is wrecked you are too young to realise love can be a wolf.   They call it puppy love but there is something deeply violent in this, too violent to be that innocent.   Slowly, you rebuild it. With confidence you make it out of straw, sturdier than no protection.   And again, it is wrecked. Huffed and puffed into nothingness by this dangerous thing no one wants to call a wolf.   Again, you collect from the wreckage, promise yourself stronger, make a wooden shelter. But even this proves futile, for the dark thing that relishes destroying your soft, wanting heart.   It takes you so much longer to feel and trust again, you build walls made of brick. You think, Not this time.   This time it will not find a way to destroy me, I have built stronger walls than it can possibly handle. Still the wolf comes. Still the house-heart, sturdy as you make it, finds a way to crumble.

From another corner of neuroscience, we’re learning about a neurotransmitter called dopamine. Though there are more than fifty neurotransmitters (that we know of), scientists studying substance problems have given dopamine much of their attention. The brain’s reward system and pleasure centers—the areas most impacted by substance use and compulsive behaviors—have a high concentration of dopamine. Some brains have more of it than others, and some people have a capacity to enjoy a range of experiences more than others, owing to a combination of genetics and environment. The thing about dopamine is that it makes us feel really good. We tend to want more of it. It is naturally generated through ordinary, pleasurable activities like eating and sex, and it is the brain’s way of rewarding us—or nature’s way of rewarding the brain—for activities necessary to our survival, individually or as a species. It is the “mechanism by which ‘instinct’ is manifest.” Our brains arrange for dopamine levels to rise in anticipation and spike during a pleasurable activity to make sure we do it again. It helps focus our attention on all the cues that contributed to our exposure to whatever felt good (these eventually become triggers to use, as we explain later). Drugs and alcohol (and certain behaviors) turn on a gushing fire hose of dopamine in the brain, and we feel good, even euphoric. Dopamine produced by these artificial means, however, throws our pleasure and reward systems out of whack immediately. Flooding the brain repeatedly with dopamine has long-term effects and creates what’s known as tolerance—when we lose our ability to produce or absorb our own dopamine and need more and more of it artificially just to feel okay. Specifically, the brain compensates for the flood of dopamine by decreasing its own production of it or by desensitizing itself to the neurotransmitter by reducing the number of dopamine receptors, or both. The brain is just trying to keep a balance. The problem with the brain’s reduction in natural dopamine production is that when you take the substance or behavior out of the picture, there’s not enough dopamine in the brain to make you feel good. Without enough dopamine, there is no interest or pleasure. Then not only does the brain lose the pleasure associated with using, it might not be able to enjoy a sunset or a back rub, either. A lowered level of dopamine, combined with people’s longing for the rush of dopamine they got from using substances, contributes to “craving” states. Cravings are a physiological process associated with the brain’s struggle to regain its normal dopamine balance, and they can influence a decision to keep using a substance even when a person is experiencing negative consequences that matter to him and a strong desire to change. Depending on the length of time and quantities a person has been using, these craving states can be quite uncomfortable and compelling. The dopamine system can and does recover, starting as soon as we stop flooding it. But it takes time, and in the time between shutting off the artificial supply of dopamine and the brain’s rebuilding its natural resources, people tend to feel worse (before they feel better). On a deep, instinctual level, their brains are telling them that by stopping using, something is missing; something is wrong. This is a huge factor in relapse, despite good intentions and effort to change. Knowing this can help you and your loved one make it across this gap in brain reward systems.

When you are rebuilding your life, remember to push forward no matter what. Accept where you are, take responsibility for your actions, and don't let your past decisions keep you from moving forward. Keep yourself focused on your goals, write them down, reflect back, but don't lose sight of where you are going. Avoid gossip, learn to love yourself, work to uncover your character defects, and keep a positive mental attitude. Learn to have discernment when letting people into your life. If anyone keeps you from becoming the best you, then you need to realize that they are not healthy for you in your life. Surround yourself with people, places, and things that are going to help you get better, not drag you down. The people in your life will ultimately affect the direction of your life. Put your trust in God so he can open the doors that you have been closing. Remember that without faith, with your own will, you will never become the person who God has always intended you to be! I can tell you from personal experience that without God, you will never have peace, and without faith, life is unmanageable. There is a better life waiting for you, I encourage you to find it!

Tobias takes me to the atrium near the hotel dormitory, and we spend some time there, talking and kissing and pointing out the strangest plants. It feels like something that normal people do--go on dates, talk about small things, laugh. We have had so few of those moments. Most of our time together has been spent running from one threat or another, or running toward one threat or another. But I can see a time on the horizon when that won’t need to happen anymore. We will reset the people in the compound, and work to rebuild this place together. Maybe then we can find out if we do as well with the quiet moments as we have with the loud ones. I am looking forward to it. Finally the time comes for Tobias to leave. I stand on the higher step in the atrium and he stands on the lower one, so we’re on the same plane. “I don’t like that I can’t be with you tonight,” he says. “It doesn’t feel right to leave you alone with something this huge.” “What, you don’t think I can handle it?” I say, a little defensive. “Obviously that is not what I think.” He touches his hands to my face and leans his forehead against mine. “I just don’t want you to have to bear it alone.” “I don’t want you to have to bear Uriah’s family alone,” I say softly. “But I think these are things we have to do separately. I’m glad I’ll get to be with Caleb before…you know. It’ll be nice not having to worry about you at the same time.” “Yeah.” He closes his eyes. “I can’t wait until tomorrow, when I’m back and you’ve done what you set out to do and we can decide what comes next.” “I can tell you it will involve a lot of this,” I say, and I press my lips to his. His hands shift from my cheeks to my shoulders and then slide painstakingly down my back. His fingers find the hem of my shirt, then slip under it, warm and insistent. I feel aware of everything at once, of the pressure of his mouth and the taste of our kiss and the texture of his skin and the orange light glowing against my closed eyelids and the smell of green things, growing things, in the air. When I pull away, and he opens his eyes, I see everything about them, the dart of light blue in his left eye, the dark blue that makes me feel like I am safe inside it, like I am dreaming. “I love you,” I say. “I love you, too,” he says. “I’ll see you soon.” He kisses me again, softly, and then leaves the atrium. I stand in that shaft of sunlight until the sun disappears. It’s time to be with my brother now.

Covenant Woman Covenant woman got a contract with the Lord Way up yonder, great will be her reward Covenant woman, shining like a morning star I know I can trust you to stay where you are And I just got to tell you I do intend To stay closer than any friend I just got to thank you Once again For making your prayers known Unto heaven for me And to you, always, so grateful I will forever be I’ve been broken, shattered like an empty cup I’m just waiting on the Lord to rebuild and fill me up And I know He will do it ’cause He’s faithful and He’s true He must have loved me so much to send me someone as fine as you And I just got to tell you I do intend To stay closer than any friend I just got to thank you Once again For making your prayers known Unto heaven for me And to you, always, so grateful I will forever be Covenant woman, intimate little girl Who knows those most secret things of me that are hidden from the world You know we are strangers in a land we’re passing through I’ll always be right by your side, I’ve got a covenant too And I just got to tell you I do intend To stay closer than any friend I just got to thank you Once again For making your prayers known Unto heaven for me And to you, always, so grateful I will forever be

Mr. President, Dr. Biden, Madam Vice President, Mr. Emhoff, Americans and the world, when day comes we ask ourselves where can we find light in this never-ending shade? The loss we carry asea we must wade. We’ve braved the belly of the beast. We’ve learned that quiet isn’t always peace. In the norms and notions of what just is isn’t always justice. And yet, the dawn is ours before we knew it. Somehow we do it. Somehow we’ve weathered and witnessed a nation that isn’t broken, but simply unfinished. We, the successors of a country and a time where a skinny black girl descended from slaves and raised by a single mother can dream of becoming president only to find herself reciting for one. And yes, we are far from polished, far from pristine, but that doesn’t mean we are striving to form a union that is perfect. We are striving to forge our union with purpose. To compose a country committed to all cultures, colors, characters, and conditions of man. And so we lift our gazes not to what stands between us, but what stands before us. We close the divide because we know to put our future first, we must first put our differences aside. We lay down our arms so we can reach out our arms to one another. We seek harm to none and harmony for all. Let the globe, if nothing else, say this is true. That even as we grieved, we grew. That even as we hurt, we hoped. That even as we tired, we tried that will forever be tied together victorious. Not because we will never again know defeat, but because we will never again sow division. Scripture tells us to envision that everyone shall sit under their own vine and fig tree and no one shall make them afraid. If we’re to live up to her own time, then victory won’t lie in the blade, but in all the bridges we’ve made. That is the promise to glade, the hill we climb if only we dare. It’s because being American is more than a pride we inherit. It’s the past we step into and how we repair it. We’ve seen a forest that would shatter our nation rather than share it. Would destroy our country if it meant delaying democracy. This effort very nearly succeeded. But while democracy can be periodically delayed, it can never be permanently defeated. In this truth, in this faith we trust for while we have our eyes on the future, history has its eyes on us. This is the era of just redemption. We feared it at its inception. We did not feel prepared to be the heirs of such a terrifying hour, but within it, we found the power to author a new chapter, to offer hope and laughter to ourselves so while once we asked, how could we possibly prevail over catastrophe? Now we assert, how could catastrophe possibly prevail over us? We will not march back to what was, but move to what shall be a country that is bruised, but whole, benevolent, but bold, fierce, and free. We will not be turned around or interrupted by intimidation because we know our inaction and inertia will be the inheritance of the next generation. Our blunders become their burdens. But one thing is certain, if we merge mercy with might and might with right, then love becomes our legacy and change our children’s birthright. So let us leave behind a country better than one we were left with. Every breath from my bronze-pounded chest we will raise this wounded world into a wondrous one. We will rise from the gold-limbed hills of the West. We will rise from the wind-swept Northeast where our forefathers first realized revolution. We will rise from the Lake Rim cities of the Midwestern states. We will rise from the sun-baked South. We will rebuild, reconcile and recover in every known nook of our nation, in every corner called our country our people diverse and beautiful will emerge battered and beautiful. When day comes, we step out of the shade aflame and unafraid. The new dawn blooms as we free it. For there is always light. If only we’re brave enough.

First, bring your attention to the moment, and breathe deeply. Then, get your mind to your mouth, and drink as slowly and purposefully as you can. (When you drink, you rebuild the energies surrounding your Throat Chakra. Any time you feel lost in thoughts or unable to express your desires, swallow and relax your neck.)"Let yourself answer for a moment. Yeah, it's a big question— even a daunting one — but it's one you can use to step more deeply into the intended purpose of your life. The first step in understanding what you need to feel more fully alive is to recognize and express your personal truth. •       Simply sit down with it as the answer comes to you. Bring it in. Inhabit the body, and feel it. When you understand the deepest personal truths, they will open up other truths from there. Of examples, if your greatest personal reality is that energy is real, then other truths emerge: If energy is real, magic is real; if magic is real, anything is possible; if anything is possible, you are boundless; if you are boundless, your wildest dreams will come true. •       Unlimited vision, lovely girl. Know that you are treasured beyond measure and trust when you conduct yourself in service of the highest reality of All Beings. Let the true reality of harmony envelope you. •       Ask your elders and spirit guides to be with you while you absorb what you've seen as you feel connected to reality at every point. Welcome its presence as it surrounds you. They're here to help you love each other and honor yourself deeper than ever. When in this blanket of support and wisdom you feel fully enveloped, close your induction with the universal blessing: Amen.

Zepeto Cheats are available for browser, Android and iOS! With its help, you will be able to get unlimited Coins! It’s extremly easy to use and there is no need to download anything. This Zepeto Online Cheat was just released and its purpose is to easily give you as many Coins as you need without spending your money. So if you’re looking for a way to get easy Coins, this is the best place for you. Our Zepeto Guide is the best, it contains detailed instructions, so everyone will be able to use it! Go to - store.gamesdynamo[DOT]com/zepeto-hack-coins-generator-online-2/ Zepeto is a popular game recently released on iOS and Android. You can make yourself a cute 3-d character by using a wide variety of customized alternatives. You’re able to adjust many factors of the character such as hair shade, eye shape and so on. In case you aren’t satisfied along with your first made character, you may rebuild it until you are satisfied with it. There are plenty of things you need to learn about the game, our Zepeto cheats and suggestions will enable to do anything you want! It’s not that easy to create a working Zepeto Cheat that works perfect, but we managed to do it, so feel free to try it right away! Go to - store.gamesdynamo[DOT]com/zepeto-hack-coins-generator-online-2/ If you love social video games, then you will love this! Our new Zepeto Cheats work on every device and we make sure to bring you new updates every week! We hope you will enjoy new features that are going to be released! For now, you can get unlimited Coins, but we plan to implement more stuff! Our Zepeto Cheats are safe to use, and we recommend you to try it right away! If you have any questions, feel free to leave a comment! Go to - store.gamesdynamo[DOT]com/zepeto-hack-coins-generator-online-2/

This is the part of the book where the author usually sums it all up in a conclusion chapter and announces, “I did it!” I suppose I could have titled it “The Finale,” but that’s just not me. I don’t think you ever reach a point in life (or in writing!) where you get to say that. It ain’t over till it’s over. I want to be an eternal student, always pushing myself to learn more, fear less, fight harder. What lies in the future? Truthfully, I don’t know. For some people, that’s a scary thought. They like their life mapped out and scheduled down to the second. Not me. Not anymore. I take comfort in knowing not everything is definite. There’s where you find the excitement, in the unknown, uncharted, spaces. If I take the lead in my life, I expect that things will keep changing, progressing, moving. That’s the joy for me. Where will I go next? What doors will open? What doors will close? All I can tell you is that I will be performing and connecting with people--be it through dance, movies, music, or speaking. I want to inspire and create. I love the phrase “I’m created to create.” That’s what I feel like, and that’s what makes me the happiest. I’m building a house right now--my own extreme home makeover. I love the process of tearing something down and rebuilding it, creating something from nothing and bringing my artistic vision to it. I will always be someone who likes getting his hands dirty. But the blueprint of my life has completely changed from the time I was a little boy dreaming about fame. It’s broadened and widened. I want variety in my life; I like my days filled with new and different things. I love exploring the world, meeting new people, learning new crafts and art. It’s why you might often read what I’m up to and scratch your head: “I didn’t know Derek did that.” I probably didn’t before, but I do now.

When a man turns to Christ and seems to be getting on pretty well (in the sense that some of his bad habits are corrected), he often feels that it would now be natural if things went fairly smoothly. When troubles come along—illnesses, money troubles, new kinds of temptation—he is disappointed. These things, he feels, might have been necessary to rouse him and make him repent in his bad old days; but why now? Because God is forcing him on, or up, to a higher level: putting him into situations where he will have to be very much braver, or more patient, or more loving, than he ever dreamed of being before. It seems to us all unnecessary: but that is because we have not yet had the slightest notion of the tremendous thing he means to make of us.” “Imagine yourself living in a house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps you can understand what he is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on: you knew that those jobs needed doing so you are not surprised. But presently he starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make sense. What on earth is he up to? The explanation is that he is building quite a different house from the one you thought of—throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were going to be made into a decent little cottage: but he is building a palace.” “If we let him—for we can prevent him, if we choose—he will make the feeblest and filthiest of us into a…dazzling, radiant, immortal creature, pulsating all through with such energy and joy and wisdom and love as we cannot now imagine, a bright, stainless mirror which reflects back to God perfectly (though, of course, on a smaller scale) his own boundless power and delight and goodness.” Mere Christianity, Macmillan, ©1960, p. 174-175

city builders and rebuilders (Jerusalem) and city-loving exiles (Babylon). In New Testament times, the people of God become city missionaries (indeed, New Testament writings contain few glimpses of nonurban Christianity). Finally, when God’s future arrives in the form of a city, his people can finally be fully at home. The fallen nature of the city — the warping of its potential due to the power of sin — is finally overcome and resolved; the cultural mandate is complete; the capacities of city life are freed in the end to serve God. All of God’s people serve him in his holy city. QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION AND REFLECTION 1. Keller writes, “The church should continue to relate to the human cities of our time, not as the people of God did under Abraham, Moses, or David, but as they did during the time of the exile.” In what ways is the situation of the Christian church different from that of the exiles in Babylon? In what ways is it similar? How does this affect the mission of the church today? 2. From Acts 17 through the end of the book of Acts, Paul has strategically traveled to the intellectual (Athens), commercial (Corinth), religious (Ephesus), and political (Rome) centers of the Roman world. What are the centers of power and influence in your own local context? How is your church seeking to strategically reach these different centers of cultural influence? 3. Keller writes, “Then, as now, the cities were filled with the poor, and urban Christians’ commitment to the poor was visible and striking.” Do you believe this is still true of the Christian church? If so, give an example. If not, how can this legacy be recaptured? 4. Keller writes, “Gardening (the original human vocation) is a paradigm for cultural development. A gardener neither leaves the ground as is, nor does he destroy it. Instead, he rearranges it to produce food and plants for human life. He cultivates it. (The words culture and cultivate come from the same root.) Every vocation is in some way a response to, and an extension of, the primal,

For fifteen years, John and Barbara Varian were furniture builders, living on a ranch in Parkfield, California, a tiny town where the welcome sign reads “Population 18.” The idea for a side business came about by accident after a group of horseback riding enthusiasts asked if they could pay a fee to ride on the ranch. They would need to eat, too—could John and Barbara do something about that? Yes, they could. In the fall of 2006, a devastating fire burned down most of their inventory, causing them to reevaluate the whole operation. Instead of rebuilding the furniture business (no pun intended), they decided to change course. “We had always loved horses,” Barbara said, “so we decided to see about having more groups pay to come to the ranch.” They built a bunkhouse and upgraded other buildings, putting together specific packages for riding groups that included all meals and activities. John and Barbara reopened as the V6 Ranch, situated on 20,000 acres exactly halfway between Los Angeles and San Francisco. Barbara’s story stood out to me because of something she said. I always ask business owners what they sell and why their customers buy from them, and the answers are often insightful in more ways than one. Many people answer the question directly—“We sell widgets, and people buy them because they need a widget”—but once in a while, I hear a more astute response. “We’re not selling horse rides,” Barbara said emphatically. “We’re offering freedom. Our work helps our guests escape, even if just for a moment in time, and be someone they may have never even considered before.” The difference is crucial. Most people who visit the V6 Ranch have day jobs and a limited number of vacation days. Why do they choose to visit a working ranch in a tiny town instead of jetting off to lie on a beach in Hawaii? The answer lies in the story and messaging behind John and Barbara’s offer. Helping their clients “escape and be someone else” is far more valuable than offering horse rides. Above all else, the V6 Ranch is selling happiness.

David Greene was kind, and he had a sense of humor. He made your mother laugh.” That was all Gran could muster up? “Did you not like him?” “He wasn’t a big believer in Tarot. Humor aside, he was a very practical man. From New England,” she added, as if that explained everything. “I’d been wearing Karen down about the Arcana—until she met him. Before I knew it, your mother was pregnant. Even then, I sensed you were the Empress.” “He didn’t want us to live up north?” “David planned to move there.” Her gaze went distant. “To move you—the great Empress—away from her Haven.” That must have gone over well. “In the end, I convinced them not to go.” ...... I opened up the family albums. As I scrolled through them, her eyes appeared dazed, as if she wasn’t seeing the images. Yet then she stared at a large picture of my father. I said, “I wish I could remember him.” “David used to carry you around the farm on his shoulders,” she said. “He read to you every night and took you to the river to skip stones. He drove you around to pet every baby animal born in a ten-mile radius. Lambs, kittens, puppies.” She drew a labored breath. “He brought you to the crops and the gardens. Even then, you would pet the bark of an oak and kiss a rose bloom. If the cane was sighing that day, you’d fall asleep in his arms.” I imagined it all: the sugarcane, the farm, the majestic oaks, the lazy river that always had fish jumping. My roots were there, but I knew I would never go back. Jack’s dream had been to return and rebuild Haven. A dream we’d shared. I would feel like a traitor going home without him. Plus, it’d be too painful. Everything would remind me of the love I’d lost. “David’s death was so needless,” she said. “Don’t know what he was doing near that cane crusher.” “David’s death was so needless,” she said. “Don’t know what he was doing near that cane crusher.” I snapped my gaze to her. “What do you mean? He disappeared on a fishing trip in the Basin.” She frowned at me. “He did. Of course.” Chills crept up my spine. Was she lying? Why would she, unless . . .

Now, before you invade a foreign city. Here’s the law: Offer the fools a peace treaty. They can remain in their city as your slaves doing forced labor for you. And if they refuse your generosity? Kill every goddamned one of their men. And take their women, children, livestock, and wealth as plunder.” The same guy raised his hand and yelled, “Can we fuck these women, too?” It was a stupid question, but Moses replied patiently, “Of course. Fuck them—use them as footstools, punching bags, scarecrows—who cares? They’re slaves! Do whatever you want with them. “Just remember, all you have to do is obey Yahweh. Then you will have no worries and nothing to fear. He will take care of you. But be careful, because Yahweh will test you. He will send false prophets and phony dream interpreters. “If you encounter one? And his predictions come true? And he wants you to worship another god? Don’t be impressed! Beware! Yahweh sent him to tempt you. “So kill anyone who prophesies in the name of another god. “And kill anyone who pretends to be a prophet and is not! “And if you find a town worshipping another god—kill everyone in it! And kill their livestock! Plunder their homes! Burn that despicable town to the ground and never rebuild it! Make it a perpetual burnt offering to Yahweh. “And whatever you do, for god’s sake, do not imitate the detestable Canaanite religions! Do not incinerate your children, or practice sorcery, or witchcraft. And don’t interpret omens. These practices are detestable to Yahweh. “Above all, DO NOT worship their gods! Don’t worship the sun! Or the moon! Or the stars in the sky! Yahweh gave those to the suckers in other nations as their gods. If you worship just one of them—just one time…” Moses shuddered at the thought. “Well, let’s just say, Yahweh is jealous—real jealous! If he catches you worshipping another god, I have to tell you that the gigs up. He’ll kick your asses out of the Promised Land. And scatter you among the other nations like snake shit scattered about the desert.”   Obey Yahweh and you will live in paradise   “Just obey Yahweh. You hear me? Obey him, and you will live in paradise. He will protect you from your enemies. Send rain for your crops. Nurture your herds. You will have abundant food and wine. Maybe free dance lessons—who knows? There is no limit to Yahweh’s love! Obey him, and your lives will be perfect. Disobey him, and you are fucked! It’s just that simple.” Moses waited for the impact of this essential truth to resister in their brains. Regretfully, it did not. But he concluded, “Anyhow, I’m one-hundred and twenty years old. I cannot lead you into the Promised Land. Joshua will lead you.” He again found Joshua in the crowd. “Joshua, come on up here!” Joshua, startled awake, elbowed his way through the crowd and

Days like that I feel that my mind is going 1,000,000 miles an hour, visions of the past, present, and future race through my mind. It races, like a train as if I was looking out the window of the car while it is speeding down the line. I am on a track that will never end.' 'I feel that I am going to derail from this runaway train that I am becoming. I cannot sleep at night, because of the fear inside me.' 'I feel restless, depressed, and loveless as well as not content with myself. I would have to say that my passion for life is gone; my imagination is the only thing that keeps me going.' 'I write the day's events that have gone by in my book of life of all the pastimes, while dreaming of what could have been in it, and besides what has not been in it.' 'If this does not stop, I am going to crack. I look into my mirror, and I do not see me, I see an impression of what I used to be.' 'I see my long brown hair that covers part of my face and covers my blue eyes of emotion. I see the cross around my neck that brings me confidence.' 'I hide behind a smile; I see the body in which nobody thinks is without drought flawless.' 'The bare body that is touched in all ways, yet I tried to hide behind my makeup. I gasp at my pale skin and the look of my body.' 'I am 95 pounds, really tiny; surely there is someone that would find me attractive?' 'I wonder if I can find someone who can think for themselves. I want someone who will love me, for who I am- and not what they want me to be.' 'Most importantly, I need someone that will not use me. Is that too much to ask for?' 'Fear!' 'Anxiety is something that I have inside, it is the source of the things which lead to distress. Not finding someone that loves me, for who I am, is some of my fears.' 'I fear the fact that I am most likely going to be alone forever. Another being that everyone that has meaning in my life is fading away from me it seems.' 'I fear not having a family by my side at all times. I have tears about the overwhelming struggle to rebuild my reputation, which has been destroyed.' 'I ask this question if I was to die tomorrow would anybody come to my wake, to see me lying there?' 'I fear what society has done to me. I fear that I have no trust in anyone or anything. I fear that my life has no meaning.' 'I fear that I will never get out of this hell.' 'I just want to start my life and get a degree in nursing someday from- 'The Conemaugh School of Nursing,' if I can make it through all of this. I do not think that is too much to ask for or is it?' 'I think that if I could be left alone, with the one that I want. I could have a life; you know what I am sure of it. I fear that the towering entity will never collapse, and the demons will keep playing in my head. I fear that I will never have a social ability, to be part of the nobility of compatibility.' 'I fear that the terror will never stop in these innocent lives like mine, and they will not be saved. I fear that nobody will ever see my creativity or recognize me for the good in which I do for others. I feel like I am the only one left in this world, that I call my life.' 'All the beauty in life has been dejected, and it is all ablaze around me. Yes, I fear to be in the outside realm of things.' 'I want to scream yet no one is going to hear it. I ask- am I becoming institutionalized?

3.5 The Book of the Twelve Hosea identifies Israel’s idolatry as spiritual adultery. Joel connects a locust plague to the curses of the covenant Yahweh made with Israel. Amos calls Israel to seek Yahweh, the roaring lion, and live. Obadiah denounces Edom for violence to Jacob. Jonah sees Nineveh repent in response to the proclamation of coming judgment. Micah beholds the mountains melt when Yahweh treads on them to judge and save. Nahum prophesies the fall of Nineveh. Habakkuk questions Yahweh, and trusts him, regarding the judgment Babylon brings against Israel, then experiences. Zephaniah proclaims that those who seek Yahweh will be hidden on the day of his wrath and delivered, and that he will sing over them. Haggai calls the people to rebuild the temple. Zechariah declares it will be rebuilt not by might or by power but by the Spirit of Yahweh. Malachi assures Israel of Yahweh’s love and points to the day when Elijah will prepare the way for Yahweh to be glorified in a decisive act of salvation through judgment.

After you’ve gone through a major breakup and a time of healing, you start to think about going back out there. Even if you haven’t thought about it, people in your life may be prompting you to start dating again. Some think that getting right back out there is essential, but that’s usually not the case. You need time to grieve, rebuild your life, and regain your self-confidence. This is done on your timetable and no one else’s.

Obedience to God, compassion toward one’s fellows, consistency in the leadership, covenantal faithfulness that extends to one’s pocketbook, repentance and restoration where there has been either corruption or rapacity—these were values more important than the building of the wall. If the wall had been rebuilt without rebuilding the people, the triumph would have been small.

Answering the question Who do I love? is not enough. We must live lives of our own. To live a life of her own, each woman must also answer: What do I love? What makes me come alive? What is beauty to me, and when do I take the time to fill up with it? Who is the soul beneath all of these roles? Each woman must answer these questions now, before the tide comes. Sandcastles are beautiful, but we cannot live inside them. Because the tide rises. That’s what the tide does. We must remember: I am the builder, not the castle. I am separate and whole, over here, eyes on the horizon, sun on my shoulders, welcoming the tide. Building, rebuilding. Playfully. Lightly. Never changing. Always changing.

Perhaps the most powerful way in which daily prayer for your marriage not only has the power to transform your marriage, but to transform you as well, is this: prayer reminds you that you are never alone. Prayer reminds you that you are never left to your own righteousness, wisdom, and strength. Prayer reminds you that each location or situation where your marriage exists is not only inhabited by God but, even more encouragingly, that each is ruled by him. The one who controls the situations in which your marriage lives is not only a God of awesome power but is the definition of everything wise, true, faithful, gracious, loving, forgiving, good, and kind. But there is even more that the Lord’s Prayer confronts you with. It is that this God who is powerful and near is your Father by grace. If you are God’s child, there is never a moment when you are outside the circle of his fathering care. Like a father, he loves you and is committed to faithfully providing what is best for you. When you are facing those disappointing moments of marital struggle, when you’re not sure what to think, let alone what to do, prayer can rescue you from hopelessness and alienation. Prayer encourages you to say, “I am not sure how we got here, and I am not sure what we are being called to do, but there is one thing I am sure of—I am never, ever alone because I have a Father in heaven who is always with me.” Acknowledging God will protect you from yourself. It will protect you from discouragement and fear and the passivity that always follows. It will protect you from the pride of self-reliance and self-sovereignty. If you are ever to have a marriage of unity, understanding, and love, you must begin with this humble admission: you have no ability whatsoever to produce the most important things that make a wonderful marriage. The changes of thought, desire, word, and action that re-create, rebuild, mature, and protect your marriage are always gifts of God’s grace. As you choose to do things God’s way, he progressively rescues you from your own self-interest and forms you into a person who really does find joy in loving another. It is only a God of love who will ever be able to change a fundamentally self-oriented, impatient, demanding human being into a person who not only desires to love but actually does it. There is a word for this in the Bible—grace. Prayer reminds you that you have been graced with a Father’s love and that love will not let you go until it has changed you in every way that is needed.

Any and all movement encourages the release of others’ energy and instantly rebuilds weak physical boundaries. During a challenging work event, wear loose clothing and make sure you can get up and go to the bathroom or find some other excuse to leave the room from time to time. If you can’t get away, jiggle your legs or feet, or take off your shoes and imagine them sinking into earth or sand. Then breathe. Breathe through one nostril at a time, holding the other closed, to eliminate toxins and connect your physical energetic field with your other fields. Or just breathe deeply, releasing others’ energies on the exhale and bringing in new energy on the inhale.

of you must fully commit to the process of reconnecting, as outlined in this book. This doesn’t mean that you have to feel certain about your future together, only that you must behave as if you feel certain, while you work on changing the ways you perceive and treat each other. Put your negative feelings aside, commit to each other, demonstrate your commitment by engaging in the trust- and intimacy-building strategies, and then, and only then, see whether you feel more loving, and more loved. If you wait to feel more positive before you act more positively, your relationship won’t last the course.

Where are the monuments to the enslaved people who built the wealth Britain benefits from today or the indigenous peoples in the Caribbean who were massacred and dispossessed of their lands to create sugar plantations for European enjoyment? Where are the monuments to the Windrush generation that—like the Turkish Gastarbeiter in Germany, or North African workers in France—helped rebuild postwar Britain, yet decades later were wrongly detained, denied legal rights and benefits (such as medical care and housing), and threatened with deportation (with at least eighty-three individuals wrongly deported) by Britain's Conservative government, in what became known as the Windrush scandal in 2018? Where is the seemingly ferocious commitment to not editing or censoring when it comes to those figures? Where is that much-romanticized—and much-instrumentalized—love of history when it comes to understanding just whom that history is actually built and peopled by?

I am honored to be able to experience love in its entirety, whereas others experience unsatisfactory fractions. I am honored to not only change myself with my heart, but to also change others, and to watch as the world transforms within love's fingertips. I am content with my heart breaking, because I know it will always rebuild into something greater. Something so powerful and luminous that I wouldn't have it any other way.

He loved her just the way she was built and had never tried to rebuild her, as so many others in her life had attempted—from shrinks to

The worst thing I can tell you is to be a man. Be a man means man up, act tough, take it like a man, have no emotions, make sure to lead, dominant, never submit, be strong, suck it up and don't you dare cry because it's a sign of weakness. When in truth, it takes courage to cry; faking a smile is easy. I tell my man to cry, and I will cry with him; laugh, and I will laugh with him; yell, and I will yell on top of the roof with him, we will rebuild even if we lose everything. He knows not to "be a man" around me other than himself.

The reality is that you will grieve forever. You will not ‘get over’ the loss of a loved one; you will learn to live with it. You will heal and you will rebuild yourself around the loss you have suffered. You will be whole again but you will never be the same. Nor should you be the same nor would you want to.

MY MOTHER’S PHLOX To send this to you toward the end of summer, I was forced to rebuild my desktop. Not in the old-fashioned way, With saw and eye laid alongside the board With some rue in my fingers, But I wanted to create phlox. Although, god knows, it can’t be done In three dimensions, as the earth Has so easily done it, but who can compete With the earth? No, I wanted only the words And they have lost themselves in the fields Or along the gravel road. It’s just as well. (Floks) n. pl. various plants of the genus Phlox, Having opposite leaves and flowers, With variously colored salverform corolla. Over the years the phlox have spread Even into the fields beyond the barn, Into the edge of the woods, inventions Of themselves in endless designs… They exhale their faint perfume summer after summer, And summer after summer it was my nightlong Intoxicant. It was my potion, my ragged butterfly, My faulty memory of my mother Who was the same age then, as I am now. As then, I was the same age you are now, When my mother planted these phlox in my garden. I’m sending them to you by UPS, Wrapped in plastic in a proper box. Take them out and stick them in water; Dig a good bed and spread the roots. They need almost no care. They cast their seed; they thrive on neglect. Later, they may change like the faces you love, Ravaged and ravishing from year to year.

Here [in Nahariya] in the sunshine a little group of Jews flung out by Germany were rebuilding their lives under the lee of war. They had worked hard. They had turned this barren coast into a lovely place full of good food and good living. There was only the Alamein Line now between them and Hitler, but they did not seem to be afraid. They knew there was no longer any place they could flee to. This, whatever happened, was their journey's end. Their children were growing up here into a new life, a better life than they could have ever have had in Germany. At night, looking through their lighted doorways, you could see the families sitting together. Someone would be playing music in the garden. Perhaps it was for this that in the last analysis we were fighting the war. A cottage, a piece of farmland, the right to work in one's home securely and enjoy it.

...Signs of the purest form of human love: the love that has nothing to do with emotion or affection; the love that say we will treat each other kindly and respectfully, regardless of how we happen to feel about each other, because we know that's the only way a human community can thrive. p19 [Prologue: A Loving Country?]

I thought a man could throw his best years against enemies and then die, feared and loved both. I still think that. But when I am gone, the cities will rebuild and they will not remember me.

In a dangerous atmosphere of cynicism and gullibility, personal belief, spin and gut feeling are pitted against complex evidence and academics in their ivory towers. In modern life, politicians can ignore data, research is a luxury and conspiracy theories are easy to set loose, but far more difficult to catch and dispatch. The general public, living in a world full of experts, have largely fallen out of love with the real thing.

Do not make any decision to execute any decision you made during pralaya, because all those decisions are out of powerlessness, when you were shaken and did not have trust on yourself. Now the healing and recovery is happening. Rebuild the love, joy, bliss, powerfulness, out of the new conscious being you are building; with absolute life positivity, take decisions. Influence ‘now’ - the present moment.

You don’t feel loved until you trust that the love being expressed toward you comes without any special conditions or baggage attached to it. This is what’s so destructive about cheating. It’s not about the sex. It’s about the trust that has been destroyed as a result of the sex. Without trust, the relationship can no longer function. So it’s either rebuild the trust or say your goodbyes.

At the beginning of 1992, I left art. It was a terrible break-up: all part of my emotional suicide, when I attempted to give up everything I loved that did not love me back. It was a destructive time. But also a time of revelation. I was twenty-eight years old. I had spent seven years in and out of art college. I had a first-class degree in fine art and I had spent three years out of art school, struggling to make something beautiful, only to arrive at the tearful conclusion that I would never be a great artist. My life was too important to chop into little pieces in the attempt to make art. That was why I had always failed… Like a wounded bird, I began to rebuild myself, using the experience of failure as my foundation.

My commitment to you today is not based on momentary feelings, but on a full consideration of all that you bring to this relationship, and all that I need. Although there may be times when we hurt, or even hate, each other, I won’t evaluate our relationship on a day-by-day basis. I’m with you for the long haul. I’ll work to keep my occasional disillusionment or dissatisfaction in perspective, and to accept what I consider your imperfections. You are enough for me.20 I’ll try to be patient. I don’t expect our recovery process to be spontaneous or easy. I join hands with you in working to create a shared sense of our future together, one kept alive with optimism and joy. I am so sorry for hurting you. I love you and welcome you back into my life.

The way color works, though, is that we see only wavelengths of light that objects cannot smoothly absorb, and instead reject and throw back. Yellow is the hue least harmonious to a banana. We also see everything upside down, and our brains expend a lot of energy rebuilding the world right side up.

The reality is that you will grieve forever. You will not 'get over' the loss of a loved one; you will learn to live with it. You will heal and you will rebuild yourself around the loss you have suffered." — Elisabeth Kübler-Ross

His distractibility meant that it was just as likely he would become interested in his dog, his computer, his car, or the soccer game as he would his wife. Things fell apart when she ascribed the negative emotion of dislike to the neutral act of distraction. “He doesn’t love me anymore” was her fear, and every act of distraction served to reinforce this message in her mind.

You’re afraid all of that will stop again if things don’t work out with someone new?” I let go of the string and look up into her eyes. She leans in, hugging her knees a little to close some distance. “It was just so hard to find the energy to get back into everything after he broke up with me. It just felt hopeless.” “Grief is normal. A lot of people sense a feeling of hopelessness when they experience a loss. You experienced a low, but you didn’t get stuck there. You’ve grown and put some good effort into rebuilding your life.” Her words put weight behind what I have been doing lately. I’ve learned it takes a lot of pieces to put a life back together, and I don’t ever want my world to revolve around anyone else again.

Trust is the most important ingredient in any relationship, for the simple reason that without trust, the relationship doesn’t actually mean anything. A person could tell you that she loves you, wants to be with you, would give up everything for you, but if you don’t trust her, you get no benefit from those statements. You don’t feel loved until you trust that the love being expressed toward you comes without any special conditions or baggage attached to it. This is what’s so destructive about cheating. It’s not about the sex. It’s about the trust that has been destroyed as a result of the sex. Without trust, the relationship can no longer function. So it’s either rebuild the trust or say your goodbyes. The problem here is that most people who get caught cheating apologize and give the “It will never happen again” spiel and that’s that, as if penises fell into various orifices completely by accident. Many cheatees accept this response at face value, and don’t question the values and fucks given by their partner (pun totally intended); they don’t ask themselves whether those values and fucks make their partner a good person to stay with. They’re so concerned with holding on to their relationship that they fail to recognize that it’s become a black hole consuming their self-respect.

The biggest mistake we could all make in our lives is to rebuild things we’ve outgrown or to live in constant fear that we might lose what we have all over again. It won’t be the fires that destroy our lives and our faith. It will be obsessing over not getting burned again that will.

I will love you, Chloe, with every broken shard of what’s left of me. And I will rebuild with you - for you.

She felt as if she had been crying without end for minutes now. Yet this parting, this final farewell… Aelin looked at Chaol and Dorian and sobbed. Opened her arms to them, and wept as they held each other. “I love you both,” she whispered. “And no matter what may happen, no matter how far we may be, that will never change.” “We will see you again,” Chaol said, but even his voice was thick with tears. “Together,” Dorian breathed, shaking. “We’ll rebuild this world together.” She couldn’t stand it, this ache in her chest. But she made herself pull away and smile at their tear-streaked faces, a hand on her heart. “Thank you for all you have done for me.” Dorian bowed his head. “Those are words I’d never thought I’d hear from you.” She barked a rasping laugh, and gave him a shove. “You’re a king now. Such insults are beneath you.” He grinned, wiping at his face. Aelin smiled at Chaol, at his wife waiting beyond him. “I wish you every happiness,” she said to him. To them both. Such light shone in Chaol’s bronze eyes—that she had never seen before. “We will see each other again,” he repeated. Then he and Dorian turned toward their horses, toward the bright day beyond the castle gates. Toward their kingdom to the south. Shattered now, but not forever. Not forever.

Seven months ago, I stood on the deck of a much smaller and much dirtier boat, blood running down my back, three desperate sentences running through my head over and over again. The ghost of that girl still lived inside me somewhere. She had what it took to survive, and I had what it took to live. I had Wielding skills honed by months of relentless brute force and instruction by the best damn teacher in Ara. I had magic running through my veins that could destroy and create and rebuild. I had the ability not just to look at people, but to see them, and to carry their stories with my own. And, most precious of all, I had people to protect — love that burned for all of them like an enduring flame deep in my chest. “We’re not done,” I whispered.

In her place was the girl who had stepped between him and death's scythe again and again and again. She was alive. Of course she was alive. She was Arthie Casimir. She never needed saving. "At last," he murmured. He still had so much more to do- find his parents, rebuild Spindrift, love a girl who had sunshine curls and pastel berets- but he knew Arthie would track them down and do the tearoom justice. And Flick would find someone else to love. "No." Arthie said fiercely, thickly, but not even she could stop this. "No, Jin. Look sharp." Jin felt his eyes flutter shut. He heard voices shouting, arguing, fading away. *He* was fading away. ... And then a whisper. "Live," said death in his ear. "For me." Jin's eyes flew open to a halo of mauve, a pair of demon eyes. Arthie. There was something wrong with her. There were fangs in her mouth. There was blood in his.

I've been burned in the past, which you know. I rebuilt my life once. I can't rebuild it again. I make sure I get things right at the first time. Going slow is good for me, too.

Rebuilding Your Life: Accepting the Reality of Divorce Divorce is undeniably one of life's most challenging and emotionally charged experiences. The decision to end a marriage can be accompanied by a rollercoaster of emotions, such as sadness, anger, and uncertainty about the future. During this difficult time, it is important to seek support and guidance from professionals, such as divorce lawyers in St George, Utah, and family law attorneys who can offer the expertise and guidance needed to navigate the complexities of divorce. Acceptance: The First Step Towards Rebuilding When a marriage is no longer working, acceptance becomes the crucial first step towards moving forward and rebuilding your life. It is essential to recognize that divorce is not a failure, but rather a decision made in the best interest of both parties involved. Divorce lawyers in St George, Utah, and family law attorneys in St George, Utah, can provide the legal support and guidance necessary to ensure a fair and amicable settlement, assisting in the overall acceptance process. Embracing the Grieving Process Divorce can be likened to a grieving process, as you mourn the loss of a relationship and the dreams that accompanied it. It is crucial to understand that it is natural to experience a wide range of emotions during this period, and it is essential to allow yourself the space and time to grieve. Seeking the assistance of a supportive network, including family, friends, and a qualified family law attorney in St George, Utah, can be beneficial during this challenging time. Navigating the Legal Maze Divorce involves various legal procedures, including property division, child custody arrangements, and spousal support. These complexities can be overwhelming and confusing for those going through a divorce. Consulting with a knowledgeable family law attorney in St George, Utah, is crucial to ensure that your rights are protected and that you receive a fair settlement. By working closely with divorce lawyers in St George, Utah, you can navigate the legal maze with confidence, knowing that you have a qualified advocate fighting on your behalf. Prioritizing Your Well-being Throughout the divorce process, it is essential to prioritize your emotional, mental, and physical well-being. Self-care activities, such as seeking therapy, joining support groups, and engaging in healthy lifestyle choices, can be immensely beneficial during this challenging time. By taking care of yourself, you can remain strong, focused, and resilient as you navigate the path towards rebuilding your life. Creating a New Vision for the Future Divorce marks the end of a chapter, but it can also be the beginning of a new, fulfilling life. As you begin the process of rebuilding, it is important to create a new vision for your future. Set personal goals, discover new passions, and surround yourself with positive influences. Remember, with the support of divorce lawyers in St George, Utah, and family law attorneys, you have the opportunity to start afresh and build the life you deserve. Conclusion: Rebuilding your life after divorce is undoubtedly a challenging journey, but it is also an opportunity to rediscover yourself and create a brighter future. By accepting the reality of divorce, seeking professional legal guidance from family law attorneys in St George, Utah, and embracing the support of your loved ones, you can navigate through this transition with resilience and strength. Remember, you are not alone, and with each step, you move closer towards a life filled with happiness, fulfillment, and new beginnings.

One of the most common misinterpretations is feeling as if an ADHD spouse doesn’t love his partner anymore because he isn’t paying attention to her.

There is a time for everything, a season for every activity under heaven. A time to be born and a time to die. A time to plant and a time to harvest. A time to kill and a time to heal. A time to tear down and a time to rebuild. A time to cry and a time to laugh. A time to grieve and a time to dance. A time to scatter stones and a time to gather stones. A time to embrace and a time to turn away. A time to search and a time to lose. A time to keep and a time to throw away. A time to tear and a time to mend. A time to be quiet and a time to speak up. A time to love and a time to hate. A time for war and a time for peace.” Ecclesiastes 3: 1-8

God of Wonder Praise the Lord! How good it is to sing praises to our God! How delightful and how right! The Lord is rebuilding Jerusalem and bringing the exiles back to Israel. He heals the brokenhearted, binding up their wounds. He counts the stars and calls them all by name. How great is our Lord! His power is absolute! His understanding is beyond comprehension! Psalm 147:1-5 I loved seeing my little grandson Noah as he watched snowflakes twirling from the sky, patted our dog’s black, furry coat, and later folded his hands and bowed his red head to say thank you to God for his peanut butter sandwich. He is aware and alive, and his wonder was contagious. Kids are full of wonder, amazement, and awe. Many of us adults, however, have lost our sense of wonder and awe. So God gives us psalms such as this one. They draw us from our ho-hum existence that takes such things as rainbows, snowflakes, and sunrises for granted back to a childlike wonder of our great God who fills the sky with clouds, sends the snow like white wool, and hurls hail like stones. He created everything and possesses all power yet cares for the weak and brokenhearted. He calls the stars by name yet supports the humble. He reigns over all creation yet delights in the simple, heartfelt devotion of those who trust him. His understanding is beyond human comprehension. Surely a God like this can inspire our wonder and awe! Meditate today on the amazing greatness of God, and find your own words to sing his praise.   GOD OF WONDER, I am in awe of your creation, your power, and your compassion. I sing out my praise to you. Your understanding is beyond comprehension! Your power is absolute! How good it is to sing praises to my God! How delightful and how right! Praise the Lord!   RECEIVE EVERY DAY AS A RESURRECTION FROM DEATH, AS A NEW ENJOYMENT OF LIFE. . . . LET YOUR JOYFUL HEART PRAISE AND MAGNIFY SO GOOD AND GLORIOUS A CREATOR. William Law (1686-1761)

Love is a verb. Acting lovingly is the way to heal and rebuild. It also means working to meet our children in their world, instead of demanding they join ours.

On Friday, 3 December1993, at a charity luncheon in aid of the Headway National Head Injuries Association, the Princess announced her withdrawal from public life. In a sometimes quavering, yet defiant, voice she appealed for ‘time and space’ after more than a decade in the spotlight. During her five-minute speech she made a particular point of the unrelenting media exposure: ‘When I started my public life 12 years ago, I understood that the media might be interested in what I did. I realized then that their attention would inevitably focus on both our private and public lives. But I was not aware of how overwhelming that attention would become; nor the extent to which it would affect both my public duties and my personal life, in a manner that has been hard to bear.’ As she later said: ‘The pressure was intolerable then, and my job, my work was being affected. I wanted to give 110 per cent to my work, and I could only give 50…I owed it to the public to say “Thank you, I’m disappearing for a bit, but I’ll come back.”’ Indicating that she would continue to support a small number of charities while she set about rebuilding her private life, the Princess emphasized: ‘My first priority will continue to be our children, William and Harry, who deserve as much love, care and attention as I am able to give, as well as an appreciation of the tradition into which they were born.’ While she singled out the Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh for their ‘kindness and support’, Diana never once mentioned her estranged husband. In private, she was unequivocal about where the blame lay for her departure from the stage. ‘My husband’s side have made my life hell for the last year,’ she told a friend. When she reached the relative sanctuary of Kensington Palace that afternoon, Diana was relieved, saddened but quietly elated. Her retirement would give her a much-needed chance to reflect and refocus. If the separation had brought her the hope of a new life, her withdrawal from royal duties would give her the opportunity to translate that hope into a vibrant new career, one that would employ to the full her undoubted gifts of compassion and caring on a wider, international stage. A few months later, at a reception at the Serpentine Gallery, of which she was patron, the Princess was in fine form. She was relaxed, witty and happy among friends. The events of 1993 seemed a dim and dismal memory. As she chatted to the movie star Jeremy Irons he told her: ‘I’ve taken a year off acting.’ Diana smiled and replied: ‘So have I.

I put the water on scalding, and climbed inside. Then and only then did I finally, finally let it out. There was the pain at first, just the raw, brutal sensation of love lost, of a future I had been planning on disintegrating, leaving me to have to rebuild a new one. After that, oh yeah, that was when the bitter set in. Five years. Five freaking years and he dumped me because Mommy and Daddy didn't approve? What a pathetic, weak-willed, co-dependent excuse for a man. Any real man would have flipped them off, told them to take their money and shove it, and went home to the woman they loved and made plans. And it was an awful, ugly thing to realize that I had been all-consumingly in love with a man who loved money more than he loved me. On that thought and knowing to my soul that I was not going to be the type of woman who broke herself into pieces over a man who didn't deserve it, I wiped the tears away, I got redressed, I ate half my body weight in sweets... and I decided to move on with my life.

Most folks think they married because they "fell in love." There's an argument to be made that "falling" in love is actually an unstable condition -- maybe even an emotional illness! Oftentimes it has to do with the way the partners are unbalanced, rather than having anything to do with love. Some of us marry our disowned or disused personality parts and call it "falling in love.

The last time I'd felt right was when I was with Vivian. I had to go back. All the way back, before I'd built anything. I was running out of time. I had to accept that I was obsessed with her, ask for forgiveness, and rebuild around her. Without her, I'd not only be worthless all season, I'd be plain worthless.

We human beings are paradoxes. We love the fruits of commitment, love, and order. Yet a dark side of us is often anticommitment, antilove, and antiorder. We would prefer to receive these things; we have to be taught and we have to deliberately choose to give these things. This is a fundamental testimony to the evil within.

and so I began the daily, unglamorous work of rebuilding that strong inner core - replacing that sludgy hatred with love.

Trusting and entrusting; we will build a strong foundation we simply can’t have a healthy god homering mutually god satisfying marriage without trust. In a fallen world trust is the fine china of a relationship. It is beautiful when it’s there, but its surly delicate and breakable. When trust is broken it can be very hard to repair; it is trust that allows a husband and wife to face all the internal and external threats to their unite love and understanding, it is trust that allows couple to weather the difference and disarrangements that every marriage faces. It is trust allows couple to talk with honest and hope about the most personal and difficult things. There are two sides to trust; first you must do everything you can to proof yourself trustworthy. Second, you must make the decision to entrust yourself into your spouse’s care. What does it look like to engender a marriage where trust thrives? What does it look like rebuild trust when it’s been shattered? What are the characteristics of a relationship where trust is the glue?

To build and rebuild, To create castles in the sky, To reach those castles by Dreaming and believing; This is love.

There were so many different ways to say “I love you.” As Peyton went back over to Novo and pulled her against him once more, he reflected that those three words were certainly the most common transmission of the sacred emotion between two souls. But there were other ways. Gestures, gifts, the rebuilding of a barn after a fire, the shoveling of a walkway, even something as simple as carrying groceries in from the car. Novo was telling him she loved him by sharing this terrible truth,

It is terrible to lose a loved one... Such sadness doesn't just bruise, then fade away. It devastates. The only way back is to rebuild, stone by stone. And sometimes one hasn't the energy, or the inclination, and one sits among the ruins and waits for something to change. But nothing changes unless we stand up again, and keep picking up the stones.

We were trying to rebuild people in our image, convincing them that our way of doing things was superior to their way, that they should put down their tea and pick up our Coke.

We are better together than alone. Love has the power to heal. Through love, we can rebuild the world.

Medieval man’s mind was far-embracing, encompassing the natural and the supernatural. It was piercing because he was tirelessly curious about nature and God. It was precise and utterly rational as shown in the age’s invention of the Scholastic method. Medieval man lived, so to speak, outside himself—in the open air amid field, stream, and mountain; under the sun, rain, and storms, never ceasing to marvel at the countless stars of the night sky. He stayed close to both his newborn infant and his dying parent. He raised his heart spontaneously in prayer. And so he knew that God was real, that life was flawed beauty, ever so lovely yet ever so fragile; and that immortality with unchanging happiness or despair was on the other side of the thin membrane of time.

Fifty billion dollars is the amount the Iraqi government is estimated to have received in the first three years after the invasion to rebuild its nation. It is also estimated to be how much money people around the globe spend on weddings every year. By my estimation, it’s a ridiculous waste of money on both accounts. If you were to amortize the cost of Liza Minnelli’s extravagant wedding to David Gest, it works out to $29,000 for each day they were married. And that doesn’t include the cost of their divorce! I guess Liza can afford it, but three and a half million dollars buys an awful lot of mascara.

Once you have recognized and admitted to yourself that there is a problem and have started to gain some understanding of the nature of the problem, you can begin to build deeper intimacy, love, and connectedness. CHAPTER SUMMARY

Just want to encourage everyone who is in the process of rebuilding their life. It's not going to be easy, there will be many obstacles, but many blessings will come. Let go of all the fears that you have , they will be eliminated in the process of your recovery. Be honest with yourself, and others. Don't give up on your recovery or God before the blessings happen! God's love never fails, remember that your prayers will get answered, maybe not exactly when you want, but God will answer them! I pray that you stay on the right path!

I am what I am. I marvel at how yearning can make you disintegrate. And to keep from disappearing all together, you must rebuild yourself.

We see many people loving with an immature love: Love equals doing something to somebody or for somebody; Love equals taking care of someone; Love equals achieving; Love equals always being in control; Love equals 'never having to say you're sorry;' Love equals always being strong; Love equals being nice.

Rebuilding is something that is practically difficult than starting over from nothing.

 ‘What can we do about the refugee situation? It’s one of the worst problems Europe faces, or so it seems from our perspective. Do you have any ideas?’  ‘Are you kidding?’ ‘No I am not kidding. I’m not in the mood for kidding.’ ‘Okay, then rebuild the countries that the refugee hordes are fleeing. I don’t even know if it’s possible. The environmental devastation is beyond belief, in some places: I’ve seen it. But you could try.

Some revelations stop relationships in their tracks. But others reveal the true person in our midst, the imperfect, limping, and often loving soul we cared about so much. And so we continue to care, and together we rebuild, this time slowly, on a foundation of truth. We can build a house together, or a home, or a beautiful garden that is nourished by acceptance.

Over Thinking can be extremely destructive, and may often be a  sign of low confidence or low self-esteem.

For example, consider one of Intuit’s flagship products. Because TurboTax does most of its sales around tax season in the United States, it used to have an extremely conservative culture. Over the course of the year, the marketing and product teams would conceive one major initiative that would be rolled out just in time for tax season. Now they test over five hundred different changes in a two-and-a-half-month tax season. They’re running up to seventy different tests per week. The team can make a change live on its website on Thursday, run it over the weekend, read the results on Monday, and come to conclusions starting Tuesday; then they rebuild new tests on Thursday and launch the next set on Thursday night. As Scott put it, “Boy, the amount of learning they get is just immense now. And what it does is develop entrepreneurs, because when you have only one test, you don’t have entrepreneurs, you have politicians, because you have to sell. Out of a hundred good ideas, you’ve got to sell your idea. So you build up a society of politicians and salespeople. When you have five hundred tests you’re running, then everybody’s ideas can run. And then you create entrepreneurs who run and learn and can retest and relearn as opposed to a society of politicians. So we’re trying to drive that throughout our organization, using examples which have nothing to do with high tech, like the website example. Every business today has a website. You don’t have to be high tech to use fast-cycle testing.” This kind of change is hard. After all, the company has a significant number of existing customers who continue to demand exceptional service and investors who expect steady, growing returns. Scott says, It goes against the grain of what people have been taught in business and what leaders have been taught. The problem isn’t with the teams or the entrepreneurs. They love the chance to quickly get their baby out into the market. They love the chance to have the customer vote instead of the suits voting. The real issue is with the leaders and the middle managers. There are many business leaders who have been successful because of analysis. They think they’re analysts, and their job is to do great planning and analyzing and have a plan.

Would you like to see where I will build your house, m’lady?” She grinned. “You mean our house?” He mirrored her smile. “Aye.” Taking her hand, he led her along the path to the mouth of the River Coe. They stood on a curved peninsula high above the river where it would be free from floods. Hugh spread his arms wide and looked across Loch Leven. “The hills of Glencoe will be our backdrop, the river of the Coe will be our music, and our galleys will sail through the water of the Leven to Loch Linnhe and out to sea. Mark me, my love, Clan Iain Abrach will rebuild, and will once again rule these lands.” He looked into her eyes and saw joy there. “And you will be my queen.

To rebuild Detroit, we have to think of a new mode of production based upon serving human needs and the needs of the.… community and not on any get-rich-quick schemes.… If we are going to create hope especially for our young people, we have to stop seeing the city as just a place to which you come for a job or to make a living and start seeing it as the place where the humanity of people is enriched because they have the opportunity to live with people of many different ethnic and social backgrounds. The foundation of our city has to be people living in communities who realize that their human identity or their Love and Respect for Self is based on Love and Respect for others and who have also learned from experience that they can no longer leave the decision as to their present and their future to the market place, to corporations or to capitalist politicians, regardless of ethnic background. We, the People, have to see ourselves as responsible for our city and for each other, and especially for making sure that our children are raised to place more value on social ties than on material wealth.… We have to get rid of the myth that there is something sacred about large-scale production for the national and international market.… We have to begin thinking of creating small enterprises which produce food, goods and services for the local market, that is, for our communities and our city. Instead of destroying the skills of workers, which is what large-scale industry does, these small enterprises will combine craftsmanship, or the preservation and enhancement of human skills, with the new technologies which make possible flexible production and constant readjustment to serve the needs of local customers.… In order to create these new enterprises we need a view of our city which takes into consideration both the natural resources of our area and the existing and potential skills and talents of Detroiters.… We also need a fundamental change in our concept of Schools. Since World War II our schools have been transformed into custodial institutions where our children are housed for 12 years with no function except to study and get good grades so that they can win the certificates that will enable them to get a job.… We have to create schools which are an integral part of the community, in which young people naturally and normally do socially necessary and meaningful work for the community, for example, keeping the school grounds and the neighborhood clean and attractive, taking care of younger children, growing gardens which provide food for the community, etc., etc.5

When I went into the attic to find the veil for Rose, I discovered this painting,” she began. “This is your great-grandfather, the third Earl of Ashton.” He wasn’t certain what to make of it, but then the weight of her words struck him. She’d said it was his great-grandfather. “He had green eyes,” Moira whispered. “You can see it for yourself.” Iain accepted the portrait, and when he took a closer look at the man, his blood ran cold. It was like looking into a mirror. There was no doubt at all that he was a blood relation to this man. He set down the portrait, and the hair stood up on his arms. Moira spoke first. “You have to understand how broken I was after I was violated by a man who was not my husband. And because Aidan sought revenge, he died. I found myself with a living reminder of that night.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “Every time I looked at you, I could only think of the violence. I couldn’t see that you were a gift that Aidan left to me, so I wouldn’t be alone.” Moira turned away, her shoulders slumped forward. He couldn’t answer her, though he knew what she was saying. She finished with, “There is nothing I can say to undo the years I mistreated you. I neglected the only son remaining to me. The last piece of my husband, because I was too blind to see the truth.” For a time, he was frozen, not knowing how to respond. He was the Earl of Ashton in truth. By blood and by birthright. “I will leave, if you ask it of me,” she whispered. “I deserve to be cast out for what I did.” A part of him wanted to lash out at her, for the years she’d made him feel like a shadow worth nothing at all. But what good would it do? She had aged into a fragile shell of a woman who had based her life upon misery and bitterness. He had Rose now, the woman he loved more than life itself. He had brought her here to help him rebuild Ashton . . . but perhaps she could help him rebuild more than the estate. With a heavy sigh, he placed his hand upon his mother’s shoulder. “Will you walk with me when I meet my bride?” Moira took his hand and pressed it to her forehead. Against his fingers, he felt the wetness of her tears. “I will, yes. Thank you.” It would take time to let go of the past. But it would begin with a single step.

But we do not do this task of rebuilding our life narratives alone. In the wilderness of grief, God provides narrative manna--just enough shape and meaning to keep us walking--and sends the Comforter, who knits together the raveled sould and refuses to leave us orphaned. Sometimes the bereaved say they are looking for closure, but in the Christian faith we do not see closure so much as we pray that all of our lost loves will be gathered into that great unending story fashioned by God's grace.