The tattered, blood-red scraps of quarrels, the beige of pastry crust baked on Saturdays in a grandmother's kitchen that always smelled sweet, the brilliant colors of our happy moments -- picnics and sunsets and laughter -- all these are necessary pieces of the tapestry of our lives, even our cold, white doubts and emptiness. 

All the colors of life sewn together with the green thread of growth.

We are a mixture of feelings and experiences.

Often, we want to cut away a square of painful memory.

But without it, our quilt would lose its beauty, for contrast would disappear.

If a piece is removed, the rest is weakened and incomplete.

However, we are seldom very quick to let go of the pain. Instead, we become obsessed with it, the precipitating circumstances, and the longed-for, but often missed outcome.

We choose to wallow in the pain, rather than learn from it.

And we salt our own wounds every time we indulge the desire to replay the circumstances that triggered the pain.

Pain can't be avoided. It's as natural as joy. In fact, we understand joy in contrast to the experiences of pain. Each offers breadth to our lives. 

And both strengthen us.

Our maturity is proportionate to our acceptance of all experiences.

In retrospect we can be grateful for pain, for it offered us many gifts in disguise.