Why Triumph After Tragedy Is Sweeter After the Rain

As a young girl of the 70’s, hopes and dreams were magnificent and never lacking the wild imagination of this young schoolgirl.

Being rather shy among large groups, settling into individuality was celebrated with close neighborhood pals and creek frogs that blessed me with simple and pure bliss.

I remember long summer days of freeze tag, red rover and skipping flat rocks in the creek, which bestowed happiness upon this bright eyed little girl. But there were also moments of preferred solitude spent alone in my room.

I craved hours of creativity that began with cutting binder paper into 5 x 5 inched pieces and taping the pieces together, which became my treasured animal books. Illustrations were a state of the art design manufactured with broken crayons as every stroke brought utter joy to this fantasy-stricken girl. Writing was my passion. At seven years old I knew this was my calling.

Then life happened.

At the young age of 15, I landed my first job with The Napa Valley Register, folding and securing newspapers with rubber bands as the fresh ink blackened the palms of my hands to a shade of miner’s coal.

Route 101 was my baby and the experience served me well.

But life becomes more intense with age and responsibilities are suddenly bestowed upon our innocent minds. As much as we try to prepare for this life and what is behind those closed doors, our dreams can often be placed on hold.

Do we give up or do we hold tight to our dreams for a later day?

For me, I never lost hope.

Health issues got in the way. Bad choices reared their ugly heads. Disloyal partners proved their ugly existence. Universal challenges lurking in the night. It wasn’t my time yet. Hope don’t fail me now.

As we all deal with twists and turns along our journey, life takes control and often we do not even realize we have lost our way.  Life becomes about survival.

Whether we are trying to find that adequate job to pay the bills, care for our mental health or maintain our strong family foundation, our existence becomes making it through the day. Through it all, it is success when we do not falter.

We would not be human if we did NOT falter from time to time.

And as usual, my mom was right. I learned my lessons the hard way. She could talk until she was blue in her because-I-said-so face, but I seemed to relish in the misery of proving her right. I respect her perception as the years of struggles finally made me realize I needed to rely on myself first.

The path to becoming a full-time writer seemed lost in the wind until I reminded myself I kept the dream in my pocket.

There was usually someone else leading the way with my life.

Now, forty-seven years later, my time had arrived.

The rain of distraction had slowed to a gentle trickle as the heavy downpour is only a memory. The ultimate sweetness was worth the wait. I have no regrets. No complaints. No wish from the genie bottle of “do overs.”

Every step we take in this life ultimately leads us to where we are meant to be. Pay attention to your talents and what it is you love to do. The simplicity of it all may surprise you when you accept the flow of life.

Trust it.

The secret is realizing that struggles serve a true purpose. Embrace them.

Lori Armstrong

Lori began her career in the legal field, leaving that position to pursue full-time writing endeavors. Being a criminal court reporter for the Record-Bee, she balances the chaos in her brain by writing children's books and reflective pieces. When time allows, she publishes books for Amazon.

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