Thank you for being here. I'm so glad you're here.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
"With our hearts in the right place, full of love & faith, we're gonna be okay- I know this now. I live & breathe this." Amanda Oaks
You know how sometimes things can seem so hard and so tender, like someone flipped a switch and you find yourself flailing around, searching for little cracks of light. But, for some reason, you can't seem to find any?Sometimes days can go by with hardly a glimmer. And you wonder what it was that had you elated and inspired, full of sparks and light, a week ago. And you try and gather enough courage to begin again, just a little to hold in the palm of your hand, but you can't seem to figure out where courage went.
And then, something happens. Someone looks at you a certain way--with concern or true caring--or a complete stranger takes a minute to smile, a smile that is meant just for you. Or you stumble across words that someone's heart wrote, or your child tenderly takes your hand and tells you she loves you, even when you're cranky. Or maybe you have a dream that you're swimming in a sea of love and that all of that love is meant, was always meant, just for you.
And then, you remember.
You remember that it's not about how much time you have or don't have.
You remember that it's not about what you get done or check off.
You remember that it's not about figuring it out.
You remember that it's not about what you can measure or count or hold in your hand.
You remember that it's not about what the scale says or whether those pants will ever fit again.
You remember that it's not about being right or proving your worth.
You remember that it's not about numbers or accolades.
You remember that it's not about what you're not getting.
You remember that it's not about the kids fighting and not listening
You remember that it's not about being the "best" or the "greatest"
You remember that it's not about fixing what seems to be broken.
You remember that it's all about just one thing, that it was never ever about anything else. You're hit over the head with this knowing, with this remembering, and your heart is, once again, cracked wide open. And the light, that is meant just for you, pours in. Slowly at first--gently.
This is how it's been for me this last week or so. Remembering and forgetting. And remembering again. I want now to share with you the angels that have been the cracks, the cracks that have allowed the light to get in.
The below words, written by my beautiful friend, Brooke, shifted and stirred my insides:
I just want to sit with you, and tell you to watch it all unfold--that you are not alone-- to be patient. Then I want to be quiet. I want to witness you discover that you've never been alone, and watch it dawn on your face, moving way past the wishful thinking stage.
And I want to get out of your way. I want to rest as an indirect participant, as part of color and hue, as perfect poem that scratches the record, igniting the dance.
Amanda and Brooke; smiling stranger in the coffee shop; last night's dream of swimming in a sea of love;Aliawith all of your tenderness and caring; beautiful, little, freckled-cheeked, shining girls of mine; Heather with the hug that melted me and filled me at the same time; sunshine and clouds and cool breeze; hummingbird out the window;
thank you for helping me to remember that it's all about just one word.