Your very flesh shall be a great poem.
These seven or so weeks of 2015, unexpectedly, have been some of the most challenging of my life.
The monotony of doctors’ words. Too many days in bed. Friends, or people who I thought were friends, slipping away. All of it like kerosene on this fire.
I mend and break, then mend and break again.
And I mend.
As the rest of the country freezes, I look outside and see spring’s prelude; with temperatures unusually high, my daisies and tulips are emerging from their sleep ~ a reminder that while my mind, body and world will sometimes descend into a cold darkness, life truly is a faithful cycle of pause and renewal. Nature must regularly slow and endure the necessity of repose, and we do the same. With the gift of new chances and joy awaiting us on the other side.
In my few moments of light, when my mind and body are clearer, I create. I am painting. I am working on my novel again. I am doing calligraphy. My camera is no longer buried in my spare room. I look down at my hands and see paint and ink where perfect red polish used to be in my healthy days. And I love it, for how my priorities have changed and how free and new it makes me feel. And this is how I know, while few in number, the moments of light fiercely outweigh the dark ones.
And yes, while my heart has recently felt the wound of disappointment and lost friendship, I want to express my never-ending gratitude and love for my gorgeous mom and amazing husband, who continue to hold me up in miraculous ways. And to my amazing friend D, whose inspiration and belief in my talent and potential have never wavered in the face of my worst days. All three of you, and others I cherish as well, faithfully remind me of the love, bliss, peace and blessings that remain a constant. It isn’t always easy for me to see it.
“Thank you” feels so painfully inadequate.
Thank God for you.
Have a blessed weekend, everyone.