Stephanie

“How do I get past it?” she mumbles, not necessarily to him. Hate. Hurt. Guilt. And grief. So much of it that I feel its thickness and its weight, like she is drowning and can’t breathe. “A single step at a time,” the man says, speaking from some profound experience of his own and with deep understanding, making me wonder if all pain might be the same regardless of its origin. “You’re still here,” he goes on. “So there’s not really a choice. An inch, a foot, not necessarily in the right direction, but onward nonetheless.” My mom shudders a deep breath, looks up at him.”
― Suzanne Redfearn, In an Instant

“Because I know that having arthritis, being autistic, does not make me less whole or human. It doesn’t make me wrong or broken. It makes some things in my life more challenging in ways, yes, and maybe I don’t represent the “norm,” but I can be someone who surmounts obstacles without it meaning there’s something fundamentally lacking in my makeup.”
― Chloe Liese, Always Only You

“Don’t feel yourself falling deeper when you see him demonstrate that strength lies not in an assertion of power but in acts of service.”
― Chloe Liese, Always Only You

“Until eventually,” he says, “the present becomes the past, and you are somewhere else altogether, hopefully in a better place than you are today.” My mom bends her head again and nods, and the man straightens and continues on. And I am so grateful I send a prayer to God to witness this man’s kindness and to grace him in some way. And as I watch him jog away, I think that in some ways this perspective is not so bad and that, sometimes, humans surprise you.”
― Suzanne Redfearn, In an Instant