Sunday, June 26, 2016

In the Quiet...

In the quiet, I walk from room to room, picking up little shirts...a mismatched pair of socks, a book, a small stuff animal...
I feel my babies.
I smell them.
I walk outside, barefoot...checking on him working in the garden.

I pass under the tree that just a month ago was covered in blooms, and i look up. 
My eyes shine and a smile spreads across my face when I discover a small fruit.
A crabapple. 
My mind goes back to one of the happiest times of my life, the summer my grandpa was near me and spent a few days at my house with , then, just me and my two diapered babies. We made crabapple butter together and took long drives through the country. He made me stop the car so he could pick me wildflowers. 
I thank God for this surprise...that I would find a house, in the middle of winter, that secretly would hold a beautiful reminder of a light filled memory. 
I keep walking.

The sun is slipping down, it's shining through the pine trees at the far end of the yard. I look at our "center tree" heavy with little berries. I don't know what they are, but they are beautiful. 

Then I find him, laying there, a man content.
I smile.
It's a beautiful moment and I have my camera. 
It's a love moment...where every second of the minute is full of only good.

The sky is glowing with color. 
My heart is full.


* The next morning while I was gone for groceries my little squirrel and her great big dad surprised me with my garden gate - exactly how I had pictured it. Zac had the idea to cut out a heart for the gate handle, so little miss drew it on...the perfect non symmetrical heart ... and he cut it out. I'm still not sure which cheery color to paint it - a light blue or bright yellow? Green? *

Wednesday, June 22, 2016


Hello Joy, I knew you were there.
Just around the corner as you always are, again and again.
Hello colors.
Hello heart.
Hello soul.
I knew you were there, all along - standing beside me, waiting.
You are so patient.

The light which puts out our eyes is darkness to us. Only that day dawns to which we are awake. There is more day to dawn. The sun is but a morning star.
- Henry David Thoreau

I'm not a sad person. I'm a person that is full of joy and light. 
That is the truth.
I have dark moments - that is reality for us all. 
Maybe, supposedly, I have something that makes those moments a little more overwhelming. My choice though is to learn how to walk through them. I appreciate so much my dear friends and all of your sweet encouraging words - but I would like to express that I'm not a depressed person. I have moments of depression - but my valley isn't pitch black. There is always a soft glow hovering over me, there is always a voice that says "I love you" and "come back to me soon, I will be here."
That is Him. That is Love. 
It's a bit of a hike sometimes, getting back. It takes effort. But it's manageable and I'm learning how to manage it. When I write here, in this safe space, it's so that I can breathe. So that I can feel what is actually going on inside of me. Writing is my therapy, reading is my medicine. Please don't be concerned that my next step is jumping off a cliff - the writing is part of my healing. 
It always brings me back to Joy. 
It is hard sometimes for others to read vulnerability - especially those with compassionate souls. 
I understand. 

The hard time that I eluded to in my last post, the loss, seems to have been restored. 
It's been a roller coaster ride, 
but in the end,
it seems that prayers have been heard and Love has won.
For that, I'm extremely thankful and have so much gratitude.

I had the stomach bug for a few days - I think the last time I was that sick was several years ago. It's interesting how a time of no food and sickness forces the body to rest. After the sickness haze lifted, my eyes seemed to see. I think it's what I needed. I think the "bug" was a gift to me because it gave me time to just think about everything that had taken place in the last few weeks, sort through the disaster of my mind, grieve and then come back to a place of thankfulness for what I have.
I think I may see the importance of fasting. It really does quiet the body.

I would say that for a little while I wasn't living in a place of gratitude. I looked around our little place and started really obsessing about what needed to be done - the chores, the projects, the windows, the floors, the fireplace redo. I thought about all that I wanted to give my children - gymnastics and violin lessons and more friends. I thought about what I wanted for me - travel and change and art and alone time with my husband and different foods besides my own. 
Then that period of loss, watching someone else's hurt that I couldn't change for them, the valley - then the time of forced rest. 
The light entered and this is what I saw :

All five of beautiful them. 
The hot summer air was stifling my house, I went around opening windows - sat on my bed. This cool breeze filtered though the screen and my curtains fluttered and I saw them.
The floors didn't matter anymore because I have a floor.
The fireplace doesn't matter anymore because I have warmth.
The lessons and friends and all of it would be good - but what we have is something special. What I can give them is something special, something unique.
That night I looked in my husbands eyes and I said "I'm scared." 
He looked at me and said "I promise you, I will always be here."
The relief poured in and that glow that had just been hovering filled me and I left the valley.
I have everything I could ever want.

Today it is going to rain. I'm drinking gallons of water. My husband is outside mowing, trying so hard to get my garden, my dream, ready for me. My kids are playing and eating cinnamon rolls that I finally made. It may not be a perfect day, but love lives here. 
Joy always comes back when you are open. Joy always returns when you look beyond yourself. Joy always returns when you take time to learn the truth. Joy always returns when you show gratitude. Joy always returns when you are kind. Joy always returns when you are gentle with yourself. Joy always returns because He is always there. 

Wednesday, June 15, 2016

For the Sake of Love...An Unbalanced Mind

There I was with a blue Solo cup (decided against red for posterity sake) and a partial bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon. It wasn't a pleasant time. 
The taste was smooth, the teeth stained slightly red ... not permanently. The feeling wasn't good though. It was a cover up - not an adequate one. 
I just felt pain - just pain. You know...the deep breathing kind. The nauseous kind. The kind where you don't sleep and you write. Just pain.

 Honestly it hasn't made sense. My life is beautiful. There is tea, there are songs, there are afternoons spent looking at clouds (I mean...really?), there are homemade dinners and freshly painted bathrooms. How bad can it be?
Some day I will understand that just because you have a good life doesn't mean you have a pain free life. That is true. All fairytales have trials.
But there is pain right now inside of me that can't be identified. 
I hurt. I hurt all of the time. Not because of the life that I have but for some other reason - some other reason that doesn't make sense. 
Is it normal to watch the tv and see adults laughing together on a beach and cheering to something trivial and feel sad? Is it normal to put a load of laundry in the dryer and watch it tumble and wish you could be in there, going round and round and just tumbling and washing and drying your mind out? My mind could use a wash...a long warm bubbly spinning wash.

Is it fair to have beautiful moments on a blue bench...butterflies navigating their way through your lush yard and a five year old clanking their tea cup against yours and saying "cheers" and then feel happiness and then a dart of sadness?It is for me. 
It always happens. Tragically when it shouldn't and for no reason at all. How can a lover of light be so haunted?  
The pain spreads and spreads and fills and fills and it doesn't stop. The sun is shining bright, too bright for my soul that I squint, I shut my eyes - to cover up my heart with some kind of drape and say "go away, you are too much for me today. I feel too much with you around." The truth is, lately...the sun makes me cry. It is just too lovely. Why does beauty hurt sometimes? Is it because we so desperately need it to flower inside of us and there are just too many dead spots for it to happen right now? Is it because the beauty is the opposite of us? Or is it because it IS us and we can't get back there? I think it's because it's me and that's where I the gorgeousness. In the light. In the blue sky. In the bird song and in the sticky grass and in the child's smile. I belong there. 

 I'm sad. I guess there is reason for it. I can't fully explain it here, it is too private. The details aren't mine to share. But there is loss. There are certain types of smiles that can be no more...because, you see, their "normal" has ended. Not mine - but theirs. There is nothing I can do for them...and it hurts so much. I wish I could help.  I wish it wasn't this way. 
 Then there is the horrific tragedy that rocked our world a couple days ago and all those beautiful souls lost. 
 I love them so much. I have never met them or even given them a thought until it happened - but I am heartbroken for their families. As for "them" - it is unfair. Lives lost so tragically. Lives lost so young. But what I know is this - they are there in the spiritual realm so free and flying. They are their fullest selves with the One that loves them most. I am happy for that. 

 I'm not sure how the slump will end. I know it will as it always does. The "depths of despair" come and go in my life frequently. There generally is no real true reason for the depths to be as low as they are - but for me, they are as pitch black as I could ever imagine. My imagination is not something to be laughed at - it is as vivid as they come. Motion Pictures could make a bundle off of my thoughts.
Soon, my gaze up from that blue bench into the aspen leaves will be only light...and I will "cheers" with only joy. Until then, I will sip my cabernet from a solo cup because that is as good as it gets for me. I probably won't shower, and I will eat too many pretzels. That is okay. I fought against it being okay...but a couple weeks later, acceptance is all I can muster.
 The loss is unbearable for now, the change is too much for my unbalanced mind. The love is there though...the gratitude doesn't leave.
 Because of that I truly know that Joy Will Come in the Morning. 
Until then, I will watch the night sky slip away into a pink dawn and I will forget that I didn't sleep. 
I will replace the cabernet with black coffee and I will toast bagels for the four little souls that depend so much on their mama.