Perfection is attained by slow degrees; it requires the hand of time.
A curious thing happens as I journey through this life, and it happens when I need it most.
Sometimes God compels me to just stop, put my feet up and rest a while.
I have spent the last ten days recovering from surgery. It was a planned procedure, but more painful and complicated than anticipated, and the same can be said of its aftermath. Despite the discomfort, I have spent these days in unexpected ways. Instead of the typical and constant evaluation of my life~the ocean wide chasm that dwells between everything I wish to do and the heartbreaking realities of illness~I have spent this time well, in balance and peace and everything else I have craved.
I had a moment last week when a twinge of pain and hopelessness almost had me falling down the lupus rabbit hole again. Seconds later, as if to catch me, my sweet furry son looked up at me, rested his tiny head on my knee, and with speaking, soulful eyes said, Mommy, please be happy.
Fleeting tears disappeared. I rubbed his velvet ears between my fingers and kissed his tiny, sweet nose. I took a deep, soul cleansing breath, and with my camera in hand I stepped outside into the blue above and green below; amazing texture, depth and hue all around. Sleepy flowers emerging at the siren song of spring.
These are the things, the moments, that fuel me. Love and family. Beauty and simplicity. Inspiration and nature. The art and celebration of slow.
It feels good, being free of the usual and unnecessary pressures; knowing that what I need is right here, knowing that inspiration lives within the walls of my loving home, and sits mere steps outside my front door. The worry and frenetic pace I have known for too long isn’t the answer.
Rest, and the peace and perspective it brings, most certainly is.
Friends, I hope this post finds you happy, peaceful and loved on this gorgeous Valentine’s Day.
I know I have been quiet around here, and it isn’t at all what I had planned. My health struggles continue, and I have fought to know and find my voice in this chaos. I have been working through unprecedented symptoms, and it seems there is no end in sight.
I have spent my days quietly at home, in bed mostly, and it has been so hard to find interesting and inspiring things to say. Part of me feels like I can’t speak as candidly as I want to about all that is happening to me. I don’t know if illness is a worthwhile thing, or an appropriate thing to talk about, and at this point in my life I feel like it is the only thing I truly know. What do I say? Do I write about how lonely this feels? Do I write about doctors and hospitals and other unpleasantries? Do I write about abandoned plans, or suffering relationships? Do I write about how exceptionally boring I feel I have become?
When I come here, I want my words to echo a certain meaning and confidence; a heart and faith that I am simply lacking right now. I want to talk about projects, passions and adventure, the things I just don’t have room for while I manage my health. So if the days and weeks wear on and I continue to be quiet here, that’s why. I know one day I will wake up feeling better and stronger, and I will get back to living this life the way it is meant to be lived. Until then, I will simply take each moment as it comes.
Despite everything, I know I am immeasurably blessed. Mine is a life filled with countless reasons to be hopeful.
Hope is a miraculous thing to hold on to.
Have a blessed weekend, everyone.