rise + back + shine + meet + hold
“The wind was NOT at my back!” he exclaimed yesterday as he tumbled into the car. Despite the ‘snow day’ elements, out we ventured for a few groceries, for fetching a friend to play, and to mail some Christmas thank yous. “Whew!” he said. “That wind!”
I smiled thinking of the stickers I’d come across just days before.
I smiled thinking of the college day crooning of Jackopierce.
I smiled thinking of backpacking days around the Emerald Isle with my best friend.
That best friend who eight years ago was either alive or not. The wait of knowing for sure was one of the longest I’ve ever known. One minute I was on the treadmill at the gym wondering why so many images of Haiti were popping up on the TVs. The next I was in my car catching up on the news via NPR. The next I was fumbling for her family farm number so I could hear her Mom’s voice.
I cannot remember now how long it took for us to get confirmation that she, her husband, and their adopted Haitian son were alive. The wash of relief, however, I can recall in every fiber of my being. Thanks to a boots on the ground someone I was able to weave a social media connect of confirmation that my best friend weathered the unimaginable. Not just the natural disaster itself, but all that comes with it—the medical call of duty to minister to those surviving or dying, the motherly one to comfort her son, the partnering one to put one foot in front of the other with her counterpart in love and living in this community they were calling home.
Now stateside, I know that much of their family’s spirit exists in another country. In who they’ve gifted to our lives by way of children, in the perspective and lens offered based on their experiences, in the lingering effects that is a country so meaningful to them, that was a chapter so impactful, that remains much of their life’s work.
I start most days before dawn—with quiet reads, with candles lit, with the coffee cup continually topped. My add to the mornings of late is this beautiful leather journal from my soulmate of a friend. That backpacking friend who I’d wrap up days in a pub with—pint in hand—capturing the sentiments, sights and sounds of the day before swapping journals to read one another’s entries.
This new journal holds that which might sustain in the hard, might be the breath needed when inspiration’s sought, might chart the journey of discovery that comes with waking to greet each day. The slow wake of reflections is sometimes followed by news headlines, and today’s only fueled what I’d just jotted down: “Your life is not about you,” the reflection read. "…To believe this in your bones and to act accordingly is to have faith. When we operate out of this transformed vision, amazing things can happen, for we have surrendered to a power already at work in us that can do infinitely more than we can ask for or imagine.” –Bishop Barron
To chase that was Gratefulness.org's daily hit, which will be my song, which will remain my belief—that we’re all meant to be a palm no matter our ability or reach, no matter our resources to give.
“Love recognizes no barriers. It jumps hurdles, leaps fences, penetrates walls to arrive at its destination full of hope.”
