Tuesday, January 17, 2017


"He may or may not ever speak..." the therapist casually mentioned to me in the context of our larger conversation this afternoon. She didn't see my world caving in on me in that moment and she probably didn't recognize that I suddenly wasn't breathing. 

Wordless... is how I feel. So many thoughts have galloped through my mind (good, bad and ugly) this day and yet I find silence all around me in my heart. The months of wandering (as a family), of unanswered questions, hopes put on hold yet again/indefinitely, all leading to what seems akin to a grand culmination of disappointment and sorrow. I know in faith it's one foot forward at a time, sometimes - what if your feet refuse to move? Paralyzed (momentarily?) and uncertain there is a path to follow...

The struggle feels like a solo journey and the hovering feeling of aloneness is daunting. This, I know is not a condition unfamiliar to the human race. There are likely few who have not felt the strange, weary isolation that is hardship, heartache, sorrow, fear and/or longing. 

So, as I pray for miracles and hope for what cannot (yet) be seen, I will look around me to see the paintings of beauty that are there to behold and I will be reminded that we are none of us ever truly alone. 

Saturday, January 07, 2017

The brilliance of darkness

I stopped the truck in the middle of the dark cinder road. The stars overheard were so bright against the night sky, with the moon's illumination hidden, on this night. The dark outline of the forest surrounded the meadow where I paused, but everything looked a blur until I glanced above me at the twinkling sky and breathlessly pondered the vast and sheer brilliance. It was a poignant reminder to me, that though we may be surrounded by darkness, it is that very darkness that makes us see the light (the brilliance of the stars - the brilliance of life). The stars do not "come out" at night... they're always there, but the darkness of the light helps us to see them.