I’m reminded that anger, regardless of how justifiable, doesn’t equal compensation. When I feed my fire, that is the only flame that seems to increase. I can steadily document and provide information, but my anger is mine alone. Intensity doesn’t turn into something fair.
I also have enough caution to not straight out pray for something else I can feel equally passionate about.
Smh and aware that so many people before me and alongside me have been treated unfairly in a myriad of ways. Many, many so much more unfairly than I can imagine.
Also aware that there must be a right way to handle this whole experience, fairly and maybe still with a smidgen of grace. And maybe not…
And how many have prayed for a child to be healed, or a loved one to live? Believing and hoping. My troubles are small in comparison.
I’m reminded of a line in an old country song, …’to those who stand on empty shores and spit against the wind, and those who wait forever for ships that don’t come in’.
TV makes it look so easy to deal out justice. To rage and turn that rage into justice. But we are tiny in this giant, mean, wonderful world.
My ship would be a written, and a sincere verbal apology. And to be reimbursed for the cost of the surgeries, tests, hospital stays, etc… past and future. That’s an empty shore.
I must let it go…
Train Bumor 