How much we are loved – so far beyond our comprehension. All of it, every single little piece – even those hardest to see, to feel, to imagine – all part of the love, trying to reach us, trying to get through, just trying to show us, if we would open up to it, even just once, to the possibility that everything really, truly, is love. I don’t understand it. And I don’t have to. All I have to do is feel it, allow it, be it. And so it is.
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