It’s just a house.
I know. But it’s my home.
Not really. Nothing is really yours. There are worse things that can happen.
Cancer. A child with cancer.
No one is going to feel sorry for us.
I know. It’s a problem of privilege. Poor baby can’t have her pony, just like the majority of the world.
I KNOW! I KNOW! I KNOW! But I’m still sad. It hurts. I cry. Memories flood my mind. I walk through each room like a ghost and see silent movies of precious family moments. Dreams of a previous future die. What I had thought would be, won’t.
Everything happens for a reason. Each change has brought good things. This is no different. There are better things in store. Your difficulty could just show your unhealthy ties to the earthly. He gives and takes away.
I know. And this taking is minor in the grand scheme of things. But it’s still a loss. I still need to grieve. No one may understand. But He does. So I cry. I give myself permission to cry over a lost pony. It was my special pony. Does anyone really need it? No. I know. But I still wanted it and it was special. Please don’t tell me what I already know. Just let me grieve.