Change is a choice. I believe that quite strongly.

Change, however, can be elusive...fleeting...remarkable...subtle.

Change, unfortunately, can also not be a choice. In that case, then, one has to choose the change as a means of acceptance.

I am not who I was. Each day, oft each moment, this fact is driven home again and again.

Tears come, emotions rage...oft belying how I actually feel.

What do I feel? Trapped in a body that has betrayed me. Yet how can that be? Once we are born, we are all heading toward the time we will die. Some dance. Some run. Others stroll. We savor the journey. We resent the journey. We long for another. We hold ours dear.

I am no longer who I was ten years ago. Little is left of that mind. Of those dreams. Of that life.

How do I choose my life just now? How do I choose the vagaries of emotion, the pain, the weakness?

I have learned patience through disease. Disease has taught me trust. Yet. Yet. Yet. How do I choose this?

God chose this life for me. That should be sufficient.

How do I walk in that truth?