To see the beauty amidst the pile of sh**. That has been the challenge these past few days. The copious amounts of vomit from Lochlan, coupled with the continued fight for anything that could help him, leaves a sickly pallor on my perspective. I walk outside the door trying to breathe because my lungs feel heavy - perhaps it's just the weight of the breaking heart inside my chest - and I want to escape the pain I hear in his cries, and KNOW how I can help him. WORDS! I crave his words - the silence of (no) words is deafening. More than anything I can fathom, I want to give him life, as it was intended. I shout out to no one in particular, my mounting frustrations colliding with the pent-up wrath I feel; and I am met with the small and the majestic, the reminders that there is so much more.
Walking forward is paramount to making any progress in this arena called life, so if it's simply putting every fiber of strength into placing one foot in front of the other, it shall be so. As long as it is forward. We will continue the fight(s) that we encounter in each endeavor to find Lochlan answers.
We will learn to dance in the rain if the storm does not pass us by.
We will look up and truly see. We will trust in the goodness of the Painter who never wearies of astonishing us with each brush stroke.
We will dance when we are told we can't. We will laugh because joy surrounds us and pain is only a part of what this life is about. 11 loads of laundry, you have no sway over me.
As my friend reminded me tonight: "should you shield the canyons from the windstorms you would never see the beauty of their carvings..." ~ Elizabeth Kubler-Ross