"You think women are weak? Women are forged of iron. My body, it has bled and blazed and broken, and yet it beats on. I am iron. A little rusted, perhaps, but still I endure."
my 77 year old grandma, straight up reciting poetry at us to get out of going to the doctor’s office (via cora-hale)
If God could run out of grace, He would’ve for me by now. And yet every morning I wake up, He says, “There is more, there is still more.”