Yesterday was the best day I’ve had in about 2 weeks. Hope is starting to feel like a realistic thing to hang onto again.
Soon I’ll find the time and mental space to write more, but for now, here’s a little something that made me cry yesterday.
Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind. “Pooh!” he whispered.
“Yes, Piglet?”
“Nothing,” said Piglet, taking Pooh’s paw. “I just wanted to make sure of you.”
I’m trying to believe…
– that there is reason for hope and that it won’t always be snuffed out like it has been this week.
– that this feeling that the whole world is resting on my shoulders will some day pass.
– that the herculean effort that it takes to make things normal and stable for my children right now will be worth it.
– that my children really are handling this as well as they seem to be.
– that the hundreds of tears that my pillow has had to absorb will some day cease to flow.
– that I won’t always have to clean puke off the floor at 4:00 a.m. on top of everything else I have to handle right now.
– that there really is a God and that s/he doesn’t hate me as much as it seems.
– that the moments I have managed to be warrior woman and fight the system to advocate for my beloved will result in good things in the end.
– that there will come a time when I don’t have to pretend that life is normal and make small talk with the other soccer moms, and then drive off the parking lot sobbing all the way home.
– that I will continue to have enough restraint not to throw things at people who say stupid or un-called-for things.
– that one day, I’ll have a perfectly normal, carefree day again,
– that someone with the right wisdom will show up and help the healing process begin.
– that whatever the cost, love is still worth it in the end.
I wish I could talk more honestly about what’s going on, because I so badly need an outlet, but I can’t for various reasons. That kind of writing will have to remain in my private journal. And yet I know that there are many of you who have learned to care about me deeply, as I care for you, and I’m sure you want me to at least be honest when I am dealing with pain.
Life is really, really hard right now. Honestly, I’m at the point where I’m starting to fear hope, because each time it pokes its head through the clouds, lightning strikes even harder than it did the last time, and I’m left reeling on the ground. The day before yesterday will go down in my personal history as one of the five darkest days of my life.
Let me just say this:
– Hospitals make me crazy.
– Trying to be strong for my kids when my world is falling apart requires a dose of courage that can only come from a source bigger than me.
– The health care system is profoundly broken and there are a lot of people in it who have become cynical and defensive. There are many victims in a broken system, not least of which are the patients and their families.
– There are too many incompetent people in jobs they shouldn’t have – maybe because competent people don’t want to work in broken systems.
– I have learned to advocate in situations where I never dreamed I’d have to.
– I can’t imagine life without friends and family. They lend me strength when all of mine is gone.
– There must be a lot of prayers and good wishes propping me up, because I have managed to be stronger than I believe I am.
– Shared pain (like when you wrap your arms around a sibling whose beloved is experiencing greater pain than anyone should have to bear – in the very same hospital, no less) is agonizing but bittersweet.
I know, deep down, that this too shall pass and we will emerge stronger than we were before. We are alive and we will survive. We have a history that reminds us of that. But it’s not easy hanging onto that, when the lightening bolt has just hit and you’re afraid to get up for fear of it coming again.
Your prayers are welcome. For those who wish to email me, please feel free. Kind words are always welcome. (And in case you’re worried that we don’t have a strong support system close to us, you can put your mind at ease. We do. Thank you to those who are part of it.)
There was something about this woman that captivated me. Just outside the Chicago Institute of Art, she was spending her afternoon wrapping yarn around a tree. Installation art, I suppose she’d call it. For no other reason than that it looks pretty and engages the eye. Or perhaps it’s a form of meditation, those steps round and round a tree. Whatever her motivation, it holds meaning for her.
Much has happened since that moment when I stood there with my camera. The world has shaken; deep emotions have been felt; many tears have been shed; guilt, anger, and fear have all been wrestled with; and seemingly insurmountable boulders have been thrown into the paths of myself and the people I love most in the world. The world looks darker and colder than it did that lovely afternoon when I wandered around Chicago in the sunshine.
And yet I find myself glancing at this photo, and something stops me. Partly, it’s a longing to be her – that carefree woman spending hours wrapping yarn around a tree. I don’t know her stories – perhaps they’re even more insurmountable than mine – and yet when I look at the photo, my mind molds her into the ideal story I long to embrace. A whimsical, carefree woman interacting with art and creation, with no other reason (no guilt hanging over her head, no fears, no obligations) to be any place than where she is, wandering around a tree.
But beyond just coveting her carefree-ness, the picture holds a reminder that I need to look for my own way to wrap yarn around a tree – be it literal or metaphorical. I need to find colour, to make art, to touch nature, to meditate, to seek the presence of the Spirit, and to wander until my heart finds peace. In the wise words of Ann Lamott, “… the good news is that creative expression, whether that means writing, dancing, bird-watching, or cooking, can give a person almost everything that he or she has been searching for: enlivenment, peace, meaning, and the incalculable wealth of time spent quietly in beauty.”
Starting with this post and the quiet moments it took to create it, I promise myself I will at least try. Because even if I can’t fix things for the people I care about, I can at least seek healing for the deep wounds and disappointments in my own soul.
There are things going on in my family right now that I can’t blog about. Hard things. The kind of things that require of me that I dig for reserves of strength and patience and compassion I don’t always believe I have.
Bear with me during this silence. And if you are so inclined, please pray for healing and strength. And a future that reveals the beauty and growth that can come from the depths of pain and disappointment.