There are people we admire. There are people we respect. And then there are the rare souls we somehow carry with us long before we fully understand why. For me, that person has always been Marilyn Monroe. Or perhaps I should say… Norma Jeane Baker. From the time I was in middle school until I graduated from high school, every June 1st I bought Marilyn a birthday cake. My family would indulge me and gather around and sing “Happy Birthday” to a woman who had been gone for years

Pain is never the gift. The gift is discovering that even after life cracks us, we can create something beautiful enough to let the light shine through.