Julian of Norwich

My husband was cracked open to fix his heart. His chest and leg hair shaved, holes drilled in the leg, skin sliced, and sternum sawed to get to the four pound muscle of life. And while his dry bones have been knit back together by a skilled surgeon and steel thread, the rest of us seem to be falling apart.

Yesterday I noticed soft, fine wrinkles on my cheek, creases created by a pillow. But they were there again today and now, forever. I have lost weight and hope and faith. I have found friends and love and God again. I have wailed and gnashed teeth and prayed. I have mothered and run. Written thank you notes and called my people. I have been trying to practice radical self-care. But how is there time or energy or money? I have been a single parent for three weeks now and having to do it in whispered tones. The quiet is not working and we have lashed out at one another, trying to process our pain and fear and life, leaving new scars in the process.I have not bothered with the asking of why. It does not matter to me. I cry out for the how. How do I dream again? How will I laugh or love or wait? How can I take the pain away? How do I stay kind and open to the good? My strength and energy can carry this load but I am tired and I am chasing the light, the sign of what I will become.

When the snow had melted but the girls were still home, we had tired of the outdoors. The brown mud and goosh had overtaken the crisp cold white. Coco and Anna created fluorescent cookies from play-dough. A photo-shoot ensued for Hen House linens, my girls constantly questing for fame. The colorful napkins designed by our survivor friend Katherine were placed near the art and the girls stepped outside to be in the background of the picture. As I snapped the shutter, trying to capture their vision, they began to hug one another outside. A casual arm draped over the shoulder, a kiss on the cheek and a smile. Laughter and goofiness and love was uncovered and shared –a sliver of hope breaking through the crack of our hearts. And I pressed the button as fast as I could, wanting to make this fleeting moment of love permanent. It ended as quickly as it began. But the hope remained. And the tiniest of hymns cracked through the fuzz of my head: “Love like a yellow daffodil coming through the snow. Love like a yellow daffodil is Lord of all I know. Ring out bells of Norwich and let the winter go. All will be well again I know.”

Advertisements

One response to this post.

  1. Posted by Carolyn walker on March 17, 2014 at 9:50 pm

    Thank you for sharing this. I admire your tenacity; strength and faith.

    I so needed that quote you put about hands being full but hearts fuller.

    Thank you and Greg and God bless you

    Reply

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: