I look at the scar as a painted butterfly within the heart and hand of God because it speaks resonant of my healing. It speaks of what didn't win. The positive whispers of hope edge out the words of Woe make it through. Keep going. Keep going, Thor. Let the migration take you into the new. Beauty is captivated as moments of light upon love's nectar sweet radiant shines. Despite the storms, even tattered pieces can carry us home. Keep going. Thanks, Becky