LIVIA'S BOOKLET

  I am not just the storm, I am the entire sky. My heart is painted with hues of indigo, a deep, mysterious shade that reflects the turmoil within me. I weep until rivers overflow, my emotions spilling over like a relentless downpour. The pain and the sorrow, the joy and the love – everything pours out of me like a never-ending storm. But amidst the chaos, I find my strength. I am the thunder and the lightning – my light always finds a way to burst through any cloud. The rumble of thunder is my voice, loud and clear, shaking the foundations of the earth. The lightning is my spark, illuminating the darkness and guiding me through the most turbulent of times. In the midst of the storm, I find my calm. The eye of the hurricane is my peace, a stillness that lies at the center of the chaos. That’s where I find my clarity, my purpose, and my strength. From this place, I can weather any storm, no matter how fierce or unforgiving. I am the sky, vast and expansive, with room fo...

  He has always been the giver, always pouring his heart into everything he does, offering support and kindness with a generosity that knows no bounds. His presence is a balm to the weary soul, a reminder that there is still good in the world. He gives without expectation, without condition, and without apology. His heart is a wellspring of love, overflowing with compassion and empathy. I wonder what grief would write about him if it were to scribble onto paper after he’s finally fallen asleep. Maybe something like; “Learn to count your blessings without denying your problems. You don’t have to choose between gratitude and struggle. Both can coexist, and you can thank the sunrise while facing the storm. Just breathe.” These words would be penned in the tears of sorrow, a reflection of the pain and the beauty that he embodied. In his absence, the world seems a little darker, a little quieter. The weight of his departure settles heavy on the hearts of those who loved him. ...

  Grief still sits in every corner of all the rooms in my house. It has lungs and a heartbeat, and it has grown into an everlasting thing. It's a living, breathing entity that has taken up residence within me, a constant reminder of what I've lost. It's a weight that presses down upon my chest, making it hard to breathe, hard to think, hard to be. It's been months since the silence fell, since the laughter stopped, since the tears dried up. But grief remains, a persistent and unwelcome guest that refuses to leave. It has revealed who truly stays, even when silence is all I had to offer. Some have come and gone, their visits brief and fleeting. Others have stayed, their presence a steady hum in the background of my life. Grief has a way of testing relationships, of revealing the depth of people's love and commitment. It's a crucible that refines the metal of our connections, separating the true from the false. And I've been grateful for those who ha...

  As I step into this new month, I stretch my faith beyond what I can see, believing in the power of your greatest miracles and divine intervention. I refuse to be limited by the constraints of my own understanding, instead, I choose to trust in your sovereignty and goodness. Your word reminds me that "faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen" (Hebrews 11:1), and I cling to this promise, knowing that you are faithful to fulfill your plans for my life. I refuse to be paralyzed by fear, for I know that it is not from you. Instead, I choose to embrace challenges as opportunities for growth, knowing that "in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose" (Romans 8:28). I am not defined by my circumstances, but by my identity in you. I proclaim that I am a force to be reckoned with – not because of my own strength, but because of who I am in you. I have poured out, sacrific...