Amy and I asked you to send us your stories, to let us be your witnesses. You trusted us. We read, we cried, we breathed in your pain and courage and out love and peace to you. We signed every story. Your stories have been witnessed. It all happened. You are seen and believed. It all happened. It’s true.
We cried a little. Then we burned your pain to ashes. Your pain was so beautiful- going up in flames. Warming us, scaring us a little, even. Your pain was bright and it smelled like marshmallows. Then it was cool. Cool ashes can’t burn us. 
These are our stories. Below are our words.
So that boy told me I was fat, and I believed I was fat. And then little by little, I did get kinda fat. I was teased mercilessly, and it hurt so much.
You let me down
When I found the courage
To tell you what had happened to me.
What these men had done to me.
What they took from me.
You swept it under the rug.
You never spoke of it again.
You never even told dad. I don’t understand.
IT STILL HURTS.
I would love to work with other domestic abuse survivors. I would love to one day tell my story without crying. One day I’ll tell my story and it will bring strength to others like me. God gives beauty for ashes.
It was hard to carry a baby expected to die. Everyone asks, what are you having? What are you supposed to say?
I don’t love my husband.
In fact I don’t think I ever did.
In fact, I’m certain I never have.
I learned how to give a blowjob at ten. By eleven, I was an expert.
Even now, all these years later, I can still feel his cold eyes on me.
I fear I’m weak. I fear I’m selfish. I know I’m a bad person. I know what the right thing to do is but God help me, I don’t want to do it.
I’m not sure I’ve ever written that word down before. God, how that hurts.
Thank you for this gift. I’ve been waiting for it since I was ten years old. Thirty-four years is a long time to wait.
I was a ten-year-old being put in a girdle. Now I wear Spanx. Please God, help me love myself.
For most of my life, I feel like I’ve been let down by people.
I guess what I mean to say is that I want to be the person I used to be. A baby I loved was taken from me. My body failed me. My community of support failed me. I wish these things had never happened.
Man, it took such courage for me to go see that damn counselor.
I honestly think I shouldn’t have had kids. It’s too hard. It’s just way too hard.
I think I’m addicted to my shame.
I have so much to offer the world. Mostly Love! A deep and true love for everyone I encounter. I don’t want to be famous, I just want to be respected and admired only at a level deep enough that it would make it worth something when I told someone that I care, I love them, I see them, and they’re not alone.
I listened to your Ted Talk while I drove my husband to rehab.
And all I can think of is that I shouldn’t complain. Other people have bigger problems. I’m going to send this anyway, though.
I’m afraid if I start crying, I’ll never stop.
Please burn this and pray hard for the children who suffer from this disease. And for their parents. And for the others like me who do our very best to make it all go away.
My husband and I are 5 months into therapy. I am painting. I am present. I know me and love me again.
I wonder when in my life I’ll be able to be ME out in the open. I fear the answer is never. I fear Christians.
“Come here,” she said, and beckoned me beside her.
I flew to her side as she moved the covers to let me snuggle next to her.
“Want to learn to sew?” she asked.
This is what heaven feels like.
The love of a mother.
It is both a blessing and a curse to feel things so deeply.
I started thinking of all the things to write in the shower after reading your post. Do all of your twisty thoughts happen in the shower, too?
All he does is get home and check out. All he does is play his playstation. I want to be seen.
She’s been dead for twelve years this February…and it still FEELS.
I carry mace in case my husband loses his shit again.
You know what? I just wrote a very painful three page letter to you. When I was done, I stopped crying. Then I burned the letter myself in my fireplace! And now, for some reason, I’m laughing.
I waited on him hand and foot. Then, by December he was healthy enough to start cheating again.
I was lost, hopeless, scared, hurt, and felt less than. Not anymore. The ashes are cool. And they can’t burn me anymore. Life is amazing.
You both are the only witnesses to this admission of mine. For this opportunity to be heard, prayed for, and transformed into cool ashes with the chance to rise again like the Phoenix…I cannot express my gratitude enough. From the bottom of my scarred, strong soul: thank you.
G, does God really love me? Does God see me? Is God real?
Letters are still coming in, and we are still reading. There is no deadline. We will read your stories every night through lent and beyond.
To ashes you fell and from ashes you will rise.
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
–e.e cummings
G and A
Author of the #1 New York Times Bestseller LOVE WARRIOR — ORDER HERE
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122 Comments
I read too much. I’ve always done it. Even when I was a teenager I’d read whatever was on your coffee table when I visited. I work very hard and then I read. I can read all night. I’m well read. My husband complains … He watches TV too much. I hate what he watches, so I complain. I try to read in the same room as he watches junk on TV. We’ve kind of compromised.
Ms G. Please delete the message above. Apparently my daughter thought it was really funny. Thank you. ☺️
Very inspiring idea. I might even need to try this myself – to let it all out, then let it all go. Thanks so much for sharing.
This is such a beautiful project, Glennon and Amy. I’ll be sharing it with the middle school youth at our church retreat tomorrow, and inviting them to write their pain into letters so that you can be their witness, too. The letters will be coming from Tucson, Arizona. The theme of our retreat is prayer, and we’re framing it around Lent, so “cool ashes” is a natural response to what we’ll be discussing and doing this weekend. Thank you for all you do!
This is WAY TOO GOOD. Thank you G and A. So grateful and blown away. Sent my letter out this Tuesday =)
I felt scared to write it but after I did I felt so relieved. I felt like something was lifted from my shoulders.
When I got to the post office however I was freaking out imagining some strange post person opening it out of curiosity and reading my pain. It was so terrifying to drop it off. But I’m glad I did it.
Thank you for reading our stories.
okay..sooo overwhelmed can’t even figure out how to mail/post my prayer requests. I pray for all those in pain and need and hope some how I am included in the prayers of many.
Dropped my letter in the mail today. Thanks to everyone holding space for this hard, healing work. I’m feeling so connected to you all!
I was scrolling Facebook yesterday when this post took my breath away. “The Letters” I had forgotten. First thing I blow up the picture. Breath taken again. “There’s mine” Then I feel sick. OMG, Someone read it, Someone knows. I start to read the post. Did I say that? Is that a line from my letter? Hmmmm Then boom! I keep reading it over and over not sure what to do with it yet. Not yet letting myself go there, because I know when I do it’s going to be a-lot. I showed it to my husband yesterday and had him read the post. He said “this line is yours” I said “you can’t say it” “No, but I know this ones yours.”
Not sure what’s next. Not sure what to do with all this yet. But I am greatful, so very greatful. You have shown me a need I didn’t know I had. Healing has Begun.
I’m holding space for all of these beautiful warriors- much love!
These are so brutiful, thank you for sharing…yet, it makes me feel incredibly vulnerable as I’ve been lucky enough to have little in the way or heartache. My life isn’t perfect, but has been absent of anything close to what these women have endured, and it makes me feel afraid that it’s coming. I’m profoundly grateful for my life, my happy childhood, my wonderful husband and healthy children, but I really struggle with how to let in these stories without feeling guilty and unworthy of the life I’ve had so far. I know feeling deep is the key to a happy life, and I don’t want my fear to prevent me from being open to others’ stories, but it still scares the crap out of me. Hugs and prayers to all of you going through, or having had gone through, these rough experiences.
Dear Emily,
God does not want you to feel guilty, but only grateful. And, with His grace and inspiration, do for others what you are able.
Blessings,
Michelle
Oops, Emilie. Sorry. 🙂
Praying I will be brave enough to send you my letter
You have all of us to help you be brave.
What an amazing Ash Wednesday. I saw my letter in the pile. It’s like they are all huddled together…connected. I’m in there among sisters sharing their pain as I shared mine…and then, together, we are transformed. The ashes combine and become one. No longer do our stories exist in solitary envelopes–we are now commingled and kindred. Holy ground indeed.
Holding space for all you kindred souls out there. Love and grace to you all.
what a lovely way to put it, crying – good crying now x
Finally Ash Wednesday makes sense. “Cool ashes can’t burn us”. I love you people.
I’m so with you Candy….yesterday was the most meaningful Ash Wednesday I’ve ever had.
Y’all. I didn’t write a letter, but I read stuff on here all the time that makes me cry, and then I wonder why I’m reading it, and then I realize that the crying is healing and holy. Thank you so much for showing yourselves. You are all beautiful.
This feeling that I have after reading this post. It is indescribable. Such beauty through all of the pain! I just keep thinking, people truly are beautiful and amazing. Thank you Glennon and Amy for showing them – all of us – that we matter. That our pain matters. And that it no longer needs to burn us. Love truly does win.
I just came across this post. I didn’t send a letter, but if I’d had, it would have told the story of how I lost my mom to brain cancer & how the man she was married to for one year had the audacity to keep her ashes from my sister & I. Then I would tell you how we decided to not let him have that kind of power over us. That my sister & I would honor my mom in the most beautiful way we could. And we did. We wrote her letters, burned them & scattered the ashes of our hearts. And I read e.e. Cummings “I carry your heart”. We prayed. We had beautiful white flowers & released white balloons. We honored her. Thank you for honoring all of us ❤
Glennon,
This is the first time in my life anyone has ever said to me: “There is no deadline.” Whatever you can do, whenever you can do it, is good enough. Wanted even.
You know I have a severe neurological Lyme disease. I can’t write with a pen on paper anymore. Somehow I can type on my iPhone.
I was able to write a few words on a page and burn it. I put the ashes in the Pacific Ocean the day I saw my Lyme doctor.
I need to write my story.
And there is no deadline. I can’t fail. I won’t be cut out of the group. Someone is waiting for me.
No one has ever said that to me before.
We’re all waiting for you. We’ll wait as long as it takes.
BQ – if you want to tell it to me I will write it down for you. If you leave a comment for me with your e-mail address I will send you my number.
This is holy beyond holy. Pure grace. Thank you for this amazing post. To all the Sistahs out there who shared their pain, who asked for a witness to their pain, their trauma — thank you. You are blessed. You are loved. Another sistah, Anne LaMott, tells us to go ahead and cry, cry, cry because our tears soften the ground beneath our feet, allowing new things to grow. Blessings on you all and oh so much love and peace and joy to you. Thank you Glennon for all that you do for this community. WOW oh WOW./
G, This is one of the most powerful posts I’ve ever read. Anywhere. To be able to help alleviate pain, suffering, doubt and more pain? Golden, woman. Golden.
May God bless you. And every single person who wrote a letter. And asked for help in burning away the pain and suffering and feelings to help make them hope and live and regain their sense of self.
G,
You are a gift. This is a gift. Thank you for sharing God’s love and an opportunity to all the beautiful people to share their story.
Amazing. breathtaking. I got chills reading this. My heart.
Look at you all. Moving forward, carrying your little girls selves from the darkness into the light of this fire. Uncurling just a little so we can see the pain of your loss. I love you guys. I am so proud of you. You are brave and beautiful.
“Your pain was bright and it smelled like marshmallows” :
LOVE!
This just rocked my world. To be seen, to be heard, to be acknowledged. I didn’t write any of these letters, but I could have. Some of those words are my words, my experiences, my tears.
I am not alone. You are not alone. We are all in this together. <3 to the Monkees!
Thank you G & A
wow. just wow. this post is heartbreaking and heartfilling… overflowing.
<3
– witness
To the beautiful warrior woman who wrote, “When I found the courage To tell you what had happened to me…..You never even told dad. I don’t understand.”
I want to give you the biggest HUG followed by a big ME TOO.
My heart breaks for you. I almost screamed out loud when I read your words. For a moment, I thought I had written to G without knowing it somehow.
Thank you to all of you. Knowing there is this much bravery out there in the world makes me feel a little safer.
I feel your hug and I am comforted. I read your words and I feel connected, I feel your need to scream and feel less alone.
Love to you, Jennifer. I too feel more connected. Less alone. Thank you. I hope you hurt less. The layers of pain are hard.
This is absolutely holy ground. It moves me so much to see monkees reach out in support and love for one another. This is a glimpse of heaven to me, every time. G, this is one of the most brutiful acts I have ever seen, and you are right, we are ALL part of the healing. THIS, is what life is supposed to be like. Living (and hurting and celebrating and joining) with one another.
Monkees have so much love to share, and it makes me so excited for the world, knowing that there are these amazing people out there, loving each other.
Holy ground.
I saw my words and my heart stopped. Because now someone knows my secret and what am I supposed to do now? I literally didn’t know whether to stand or sit. But I’m going to focus on doing the next right thing. It’s really enough that you read my letter. I didn’t think my problem was big enough and so seeing my words here validates to me that it is a big enough thing, because it matters to me. Writing that letter to you was very hard. Admitting my problem to myself was very hard. Thank you for witnessing.
I cannot know how hard that was for you, but you are proving that we can do hard things. You are DOING hard things! You, and your story, matter. It is enough. You are enough.
Sending you love and peace,
Joy
The next right thing! and if you can’t do that do what is true to you. When you wrote that someone knows your secret now and what are you supposed to do?-exactly that. That’s exactly how I felt when I shared my secret. I am still trying to figure out what to do. But we will get there!!
Beautiful G and Amy – powerful, sacred.
When others heal, we all heal.
It’s like a collective Momastery huddle.
Wow. Hugs. To all of you. Thanks for sharing with G and thanks Glennon and Amy for being so supportive. We all need each other here in this messy, painful, amazing, beautiful existence. Brutiful as you each would call it. I feel uplifted and blessed today after crying. How can I serve? How can I help? I want to see those around me. I see you, with the playstation. Thank you for helping me feel less alone, stronger, and more willing to serve.
This was absolutely beautiful. Thank you, G for doing this. I didn’t wrote a letter, but my soul feels just a little lighter this afternoon. 🙂
Also, up until this morning when I would go on line to USPS to check tracking it still says my letter is delayed in transit! Left Massachusetts on February 4th, Fort Myers on the 9th… Naples isn’t that far, I’ve traveled the distance myself (granted I didn’t have mailboxes to stop at every some odd feet, but still…) and Florida doesn’t have the boat load of snow we have! So when I saw this post with my words I breathed a HUGE sigh of relief! For one, that it arrived, second, that you actually read it… witnessed and validated it!
Holding space for all of you today. Thanks Glennon.
There is nothing greater in life than knowing someone cares. Deeply and genuinely, as you two have shown. My life is richer knowing you two exist! I feel more hopeful! Thank you for taking the time to read all of the words that were expressed… each letter unique, though with a common thread weaved through out. To know that they are ashes is gratifying!
“the answer my friend is blowin’ in the wind
the answer is blowin’ in the wind…”
So much beauty from these ashes waiting to Rise!! Those afraid to ask for help – please fear not! I wish for sisters who reach out to me for help. You are each a gift waiting to be cherished. Don’t hold back. Share. Share it all. We long to open your beauty and walk with you. Sisters. Warriors. Together Rising.
It’s Ash Wednesday. Just…beautiful.
G & A-
YOU ARE SAVING LIVES. did you hear me? You. Are. SAVING. Us. This is a transformative, holy thing. The Holy Spirit is behind this, behind you, reading over your shoulder. The witness inside your witnessing. You are amazing angels on earth. Thank you on this Ash Wednesday for the most beautiful act of LOVE.
This is so powerful. Someone I love very much was raped by someone she knew. One day we burned his picture. Ashes can’t burn us.
I cry almost every time I come here, so my tears today are not that unusual. But I’m commenting because I really want a certain letter writer — the one who “learned at 10, was an expert by 11” — to know that I see her and am grieving for her. Those words shattered me.
I want here to know that I also see her and am grieving for what she lost. Her words made me cry harder than I already was…..
write it here; she is reading these comments. 🙂
You deserved to be protected, you deserved more.
May your healing grow.
I am holding you in my heart tonight and praying for peace for you.
Love, light, and peace,
another emily
My heart shattered for her too and I hope she reads these comments and knows that we hurt for her and with her and maybe if we share the burden with her, she can heal just a little more today.
Yes: share the burden–that’s it. I’ve been trying to think of how I can possibly help. Maybe just sharing the burden is enough. I’m carrying it with you, sister.
Thanks G & A…it feels good to feel seen 🙂
You read it. You really read it. You saw it and you read it and you put it on here for others to see. I had a whim to write and so I did, but the seeing it? That someone saw me? Saw that horrible moment? I can’t tell you how raw I am … in a very transformative way. Thank you.
And it’s 12 years Friday. Exhale.
I saw it too.
Seen. Heard. Witnessed. The ugly cry began when I read these words. Holding space for you, dear Monkee sister, who (at the age of my own sweet boy) deserved a childhood. You are worthy. Each of us are. I send my love and prayers (and copious Holy Tears!) from Utah, humbled beyond words at your courage. Each of you. My own problems seem almost laughable at what so many of u brave warriors have endured. So truly honored to call you sisters. Carry on. You are not alone. Love always wins.
Thank you, G and Amy for this space. Truly, truly Holy Ground. God is in each and every fiber of it. Xxx Keri
LOVE. Thank you. LOVE.
I’m sending my letter.
I tremble in amazement that THIS IS HOLY GROUND
My heart has been ripped apart in 2010
I can’t get over the pain of my daughter
Almost being murdered and her unborn baby also
But they survived but my fear is real and life changing
And I can’t breathe most days. I’m a Christian always have
Been but can’t help feeling where was God and why did
This happen. I live in a bubble of tremendous fear anxiety attacks
Meds.
I need to feel God.
I need to feel alive again
I needed to see this today. I just wrote about something that has been eating me up inside. I don’t feel better yet, but it’s a tiny step in the right direction. Write. Delete. Cry. Send. Cry some more.
BEAUTIFUL!
I don’t have the address, but desperately need to write a letter.
R,
If you look under the last picture, where she linked “Letters are still coming in, & we are still reading them”, that link takes you to her original post about this idea, where you can find the address & other info in a bolded paragraph near the bottom. 🙂 Hope that helps!
Write. Just Write.
Send your letter to:
Momastery, PO Box 7294, Naples, FL 34101
Write. Send. Be Heard.
don’t forget to write “Can I get a witness?” on the back of the envelope.
THank you all! Dropping in mail this evening.
I am not going to hide with only my initial. My name is Renee.
We see you, brave Renee! <3
I feel so much more loved when somebody calls me by name. I can feel them saying in that single word…I see you and you matter.
It’s so nice to meet you, Renee.
Hi Renee…your pain is valid. Your story matters.
Thank you all. Not feeling brave at the moment, or all week, but somehow knowing that you are all out there helps.
God bless you for being a witness, and God bless everyone who wrote, and everyone who hurts, and everyone who gets up and tries again, and everyone who gives grace and everyone who gives mercy, and everyone who forgets to give grace or mercy, but tries again tomorrow. God bless you for serving. I teared up reading this post, I can’t imagine reading all those letters. God bless you for listening, and being a witness.
Oh my gosh. I read this whole thing about to cry because I thought I had missed my chance to send a letter. Thank you for saying there’s no deadline. I didn’t know it was so important to me until I thought it was over.
Yes, me too!
G,
I hope you got my letter and that it isn’t floating around in the USPS abyss. I didn’t put a return address. Did you happen to get a letter with a Johnny Cash stamp on it? 🙂
G and Amy — that is MY letter right in the middle. The gray one. I love seeing proof that you witnessed for me. Tonight I am telling my husband I am divorcing him. If he is not mine, he can’t hurt me anymore. My hot ashes are cooling. Bless you!
Love — Sara
Sara –
Sending huge prayers and strength your way!! May you feel the power of your monkee’s behind you tonight!!
Tears…this is so amazing. Love to all the Monkees out there – this community is the most amazing group of people I never met!
And G, you ended it with my favorite poem of all time…more tears…
I’m shaking and I’m scared. My heart is so loud as it thumps in my chest, but as long as it is beating, I will write my letter. As long as I am still here to see the sun rise and feel God’s grace each morning, I will let my story strengthen myself and others. Because at just 14, I had written a different suicide note each night and prayed that one day it would be all that I left behind. Three years later, I am now almost to my high school graduation. With a heart that beats to my redemption song, I refuse hide; I am tired of blocking out the light. So I will welcome it and if it burns, then it is doing its job. Because the more layers it shines through, the closer I get to freedom. The closer I am to being light.
I’m holding space for you today, and I am so, so proud of you.
You are a warrior! Only 17 (or 18?) and already so strong and such a gifted writer. You have way too much to offer this world — you must stay and share your gifts. Sister on! Congratulations on your upcoming graduation.
Much love from Rhode Island,
Carrie
G, I was on the fence about writing a letter – kind of that “other people have bigger problems than me” or the “I’m not worthy” sort of thing. But then I came back today, read your update, and then was shaken deeply to see the poem from e.e. cummings, my favorite poet ever in the world, and a poem that I have engraved on a wooden plaque in my home. We carry each other’s hearts. I need a witness for my story, just like everyone else. I am worthy. I’ll be sending today.
Sitting at my desk at work this very moment reading this trying not to cry. After I sent this letter, anytime I felt the pain cropping back up, my next thought was..hey I sent my letter and it is being witnessed and that brought a little peace. When this post came up the first thing I did was blow up the picture to see if I could see my letter. But then as I read I saw it…I saw my words. The line about mace. You really read my pain. You really witnessed it. Sacred witnesses thank you. I feel heard and seen.
crying. damnit.
you guys make me cry twelve times a day. that’s a lotta tears. Tears are organic baptisms. i must be one holy rascal by now.
I saw you, see you.
G
Well then that solves a whole other problem for me b/c another “secret” is I’m not baptized b/c I was raised with so many Christiany rules that it just felt like another box to check instead of something I could do from my heart (I have issues…shocking). So now I feel baptized in the most authentic way. Holla sistas!!!
Becky –
The courage and strength to write that letter…just no words. We hear you. We see you. We love you.
Sister on.
Love, prayers and peace.
Thank you kind Tristan. Sister on to you too!
I’m another Becky and that line you wrote about mace made me think of someone else I love dearly who has been there. Holding space for you.
Thank you other Becky thank you so much.
We found out at 20 weeks (the gender!! sono!!) that our first would be “incompatible with life.” I carried 42 weeks. Gave birth 3.5 months ago. Yeah…”what are you having?” Geez, where to even start…? I gave birth to a Beauuuutiful organ donor.
Holding Space for Your Pain.
Love.
W
No words. Holding space for your pain as well.
Love to you. So much love.
I am so sorry. Can I be your witness too?
I read all of this post with amazement and wonder. For you I cried. Maybe just the story that broke the dam but I hear you and feel you too.
I am holding space for your pain, sweet girl. Please reach out to another sister who may not be aware of the Monkees or Glennon, but is painfully aware of giving birth to an angel who was “incompatible with life” Her name is Kimberly Watson, she is the wife of Texas Country singer Aaron Watson. She is part of an organization of Mommas just like you called Hope Mommies and will also be a witness to this tragedy. Bless you and your angel.
Feeling so blessed to have heard from you, W. Thank you for letting us witness the amazing grace of this.
You are a warrior and a mama in the truest meanings of those words. I do not know you but when I think of ‘life’ and ‘love’ and ‘humanity’ I now think of you.
Oh mama. My heart aches for you. How very brave and loving of you to carry that beautiful baby for so long.
Feeling so humbled. And seen.
I was trying to connect with the lady whose words were written above, “It was hard carrying a baby expected to die.” Just wanted to let her know she wasn’t alone in her experience here. I* was trying to help *her. Instead, *I have been helped, supported, burden lifted some. Thank you all. Sister on!!
W- I am so sorry for your loss. I want to thank you, too, for making the brave, thoughtful, caring choice to donate your baby’s organs in your time of pain and sadness. I will be forever grateful to the family who made that same choice and saved my daughter’s life 13 years ago. Organ donors and their families are heroes.
~Kim
Thank you, Kim. And thank you for commenting; there’s a bit more healing that’s come with hearing from the other side. Thank you.
~W
Thank you for hearing us. Some of these words were words I could have written. I may hold my own ceremony today. Thank you for being brave and showing us we are not alone.
So you read the letters, sign them, and then burn them? I am halfway through my letter. Thank you for doing this. <3
This is a wonderful, wonderful thing. So many of my retreats with girlfriends involve burning something. Last fall? We burned a wedding dress and photos. Our girl was ready to say good bye to the dream that ended with abuse and fear. It was SO powerful!
Thank you, G and A for being witnesses.
Are you still accepting letters? I was going to write an send mine today because I thought you were doing it for 30 days. I will write and mail anyhow and hope you will burn our pain. You are a Saving Grace!!
Yes, yes, yes. I’ll read them and burn them forever.
Write on.
Love,
G
You are so beautiful, G. WE ARE SO BEAUTIFUL.
YES. We Are. How do we ever forget that?????
Thank youuuuuuuuuuuu
My church used to do this on Ash Wednesday. We would write our cares or troubles on a piece of paper, then bring them to the altar and place them into a bucket, then at the end we would take them outside and burn them to symbolically give them over to God. They saved these ashes to use next year at the service to make the sign of the cross. I loved this symbolism so much. Thank you for doing this. I may have to have a mini-ceremony of my own tonight.
G,
Some days I am strong and some days I have to force myself to get out of bed. On those hard days I always find words, like yours, and all these others, that give me hope and stength again.
My biggest thing is not asking for help but I’m going to try because of
you and all these brave souls. I know it takes courage to ask for help!
Hell I tell people that myself….
You girls are incredible and please keep doing what you do!
Peace and love.
XO
Christine –
You are courageous!! Keep getting up and finding the strength! Ask for help – there are so many that love you that would be honored if you asked!
Praying for love and strength for you!!!
-T
T,
Thank you for taking the time to respond and encourage a total stranger who is now crying happy tears.
Much love!
❤️
Much love back!
Sister on!!
Wow…..just wow. And nothing but LOVE for my fellow Monkees!
My letter is in there somewhere. Or maybe on it’s way. Nonetheless, I feel relief.
This. Is. Holy. Ground.
Honoring all you lovely monkees today and every day.
Amen Tristan. Amen.