Smashing Plates

A few years go, we had a strange FHE activity. We took permanent marker and wrote on glass plates all of the things that were troubling us and then we took them to a friend's garage and smashed the plates into little tiny pieces. It was incredibly cathartic. Later, I wrote this in my journal, which is as true today as it was then:

There is something about taking control of a situation and dismissing depressive thoughts that come directly from a being hell-bent on making us miserable that is incredible relieving. "Old Scratch" as he is sometimes called works tirelessly to convince us that we are not enough, that we lack ability, that the divine help that we think we have is all for naught. He attempts to trick us in to thinking that he, not us, is in control. He tries to persuade us that we are hopeless and alone. As I stared at the words on that plate, I realized something. They are just words. And the fear and pain associated with each originates from a powerless and pitiful source. They are nothing to me. And I stood in a divine body capable of movement and expression with a mind proficient in making inspired decisions that will ultimately lead me back to a place of light and understanding and love, I realized how easy it is to excuse and disregard the despicable. These words on my plate when met with my strength and conviction became nothing more than dust to be thrown out with tomorrow's trash. I'm left unshackled and unburdened because I am yoked to a perfect porter who relieves me of a load that I am unable to bear alone. Satan has nothing to do with this process, so I'll ask him to stay out of it.