It's 10am. And already today I have run across several heartbreaking stories of people (one a little girl) fighting cancer.
The daily struggle to survive.
Dealing with the aftermath of treatment.
The constant feeling that death might not wait too much longer.
I also know people who struggle physically on so much higher a level than I do. My own brother is dealing with daily excruciating pain, the cause of which the doctor's haven't found yet.
And I feel insignificant. My story, my words. My life seems like puffy clouds and butterflies compared to so many others.
Days like this, I'm not sure what I'm doing. Why do I think I have anything important to say?
...other than I feel called to say it.
And I guess that's the only reason I need.