Learning to Navigate Hopefully

Coming home from our long weekend in the mountains, I find that I am filled with more questions than answers.  In so many ways, I am more grateful at this point in my life than at any other time in my forty-six years.  I have my loving husband and our four incredible Angel daughters.  We have our furry and feathery family members, the souls of our home, our constant companions.  We have our home as well as our other spaces in which to hide and retreat.  We can afford to have two daughters in college.  We are secure, happy and solid.  We are alive.

Yet this has been a year that has brought more despair than I have ever known during my forty-six years.  The death of my beloved brother in February created a domino-effect that we are all still trying to cope with almost ten months later.  I have experienced biting betrayal that left me in a state of pain, confusion and depression for much of the first half of this year.  We have been kept from my nieces, our other Angels, my brothers daughters, without any rhyme, sense or reason.  And now we must fight.  Fight for what we know is honorable and good and right.  Battle for love.  And although I know all too well that many others have walked this path before us, it rips at my heart to have to follow in their wearied footsteps.  When I look down at the path that lies ahead, I see things that have been shed both necessarily and by choice.  I see old growth which has been discarded and seedlings of things that may someday grow into something more.
Yes, indeed, the road is covered with more sharp edges and prickliness than I would ever care to navigate on my own.  Yet I know that I am not alone.  Never alone.  I am guided along by God, a Force much more powerful than I can even begin to understand.  I have my husband, my forever-partner and our daughters, our heaven-sent Angels.  And I have my brother, sometimes whispering, sometimes yelling, reminding me that we are the connection.  I am the connection.  He tells me that he will do whatever he can to help us to make things right.  He reminds me that he walks the path along side of me, his older sister and will remain here until the journey is just and complete.  For however long it takes, he will walk the tightrope between this world and the next.  He will stay between, balanced only by the hope and the knowledge that I will do what I must in order to bring his daughters back into the circle.
Along the path, there is renewal and there is hope.  There are words that come to me and I listen as carefully as I am able.  And when I look down and see the hope which grows along the path I feel gladdened and peaceful and safe.  Because if something that begins as tiny and as vulnerable as this...
can grow into an enormous giant that will, most likely, outlive me then I can hope.  And even in the midst of the darkness, there is always light.  Sometimes only as tiny as a glimmer and sometimes bright enough to guide us through places in which we are hesitant to go.  But how will we know if we aren't willing to muddle through the prickly, dark spots in order to find our way?  There is bittersweet beauty in all of it because it is a part of the process.  And if hope can create a towering canopy of Ponderosa trees out of a pencil-tip seedling, then it can certainly sustain us on the path that lies ahead.

May you honor that which you have lost by holding tightly onto the hope that you have gained along the road.  May you always feel guided, loved and surrounded by the things that allow you to believe in the journey.  If you aren't happy with the way that your story is going, may you search for a way to change the ending.

Thank you for hanging with me over a bit of a blogging break.  You are always appreciated.

Seeing and Believing

(Click on any picture to enlarge.)

My dear husband was sitting outside today reading a book about Ansel Adams, one of the greatest photographers of our times.  I was sitting inside when he told me that I needed to come outside with my camera, so I knew that something interesting was taking place.  He wanted to show me how the clouds were being separated by a burst of sunshine.  He liked the way the separation differentiated between the light clouds and the dark ones.  It was not until I went back later on to review my photos, that I understood how spectacular these moments in time would be.
I shot several photos, trying to capture the beauty of the moment as best I could.  Of course, things do not always turn out how we expect them to once we look at the finished product, but I loved the way that the horizon shined with so much natural beauty in the afternoon sun.
And then I noticed the face.  It's there in the clouds on the right side of the photo,  just to the right of the blue sky.  If I was more computer adept, I would be able to point it out with a little arrow, but since I'm not, I can only tell you where to look for it.  The face is present in all three pictures, as well as in a bunch of other ones that I shot, but it was only apparent to me when I went back to review these photos.  My subconscious mind is what first latched on to it, as I was scrolling away from one picture and moving on to the next when something made me stop to go back.  Something inside of my mind said, "There's a face in that picture."  Funny how we can sometimes have a thought before we even realize that we are taking action on that thought.  As I scrolled back, I handed the computer to my husband to ask him if he noticed a face anywhere in the photo.  He pointed to it immediately.  Now, do not feel bad if you do not see it right away because I had to direct Angel Daughter Number Four before she could locate it.  Once she saw it, she was amazed.  

I am not professing in any way, what that little face in the clouds happens to symbolize.  I cannot even begin to speculate the reasons why Mark chose that particular moment to gaze up at the sky, nor why I arrived outside at the precise moment that I did and began shooting pictures.  I can only say that the face was there.  I can only say that it made me feel more peaceful inside once I discovered it.  It renewed my faith.  It replenished my hope.  It made me look towards the heavens and proclaim YES.

Here's to wishing that you are able to find your own face in the clouds at a moment when you might least expect it.  Sometimes when we look past what we think we see, we are lucky enough to discover what we truly needed to find.

Breaking Through

If we can still see the light pouring out of the darkness.  If we can look up long enough to see the waterfall of brightness cascading down from the clouds.  If we can capture a moment of clarity on a day in which we are feeling quite dull, then we will unfailingly be able to hold onto hope.  And hope shines much more brightly when we are able to take notice of the contrast.

May you seize the quiet, unexpected moments of hope that show up in your days.  

Can I Get a Hallelujah?

My youngest angel came home from school today and told me the story of a young girl whose father taught her to "never quit" in the face of adversity.  He was crippled by an illness, but even through his pain and his ravaged body, he was still able to instill a very strong message of hope into the hearts of those he loved.  His daughter later went on to become an Olympic athlete.  I have to wonder whether she would have become the person that she was if her father had viewed things differently.  What if he decided to quit when he became ill?  What if he allowed the negativity of his illness to leak over into other aspects of his life?  What if he espoused constant despair instead of hope?  Where would that have left the people around him?

Yesterday, I received two phone messages from my brother's wife.  In the first one, she said that she wanted to make amends and move forward so that we could start supporting each other.  In the second one, she put my angel niece on the phone.  My fifth angel.  My little, nine year old girl.  Angel Niece said that she wanted to talk to me and that she wanted to see if we could get together soon.  And the breath that I have been holding for over six months finally released into a flood of happy tears.  

Do I fully trust that this is the end of the road for this battle that should never have begun to begin with?  I don't know, but it is all that I have wanted and all that I have fought for since the day that my brother died.  I made a promise to my brother after his death.  I stood there and I whispered into his ear that I would always be there for his girls.  I vowed that I would help to raise his children in whatever ways that I could.  I promised, never even considering the attack which would ensue in the days following his passing.  I promised, never even realizing that my promise would be tested immediately.  I promised...

And I never gave up.  I never quit.  I did this not only for the promise I made to my brother, but also because of the effect that it would have had on my own angel daughters if I had given up.  To teach loyalty, one must be loyal.  To teach tenacity, one must also be tenacious.  To teach hope, one must never quit.

Thank you so much for your constant support, compassion, and understanding.  My blogging friends have been such an incredible source of comfort and wisdom during a time that was such a difficult test to my spirit.  You have lifted my wings up off of the ground at times when I did not think they could even begin to flutter.  I am grateful beyond words.  So now I am asking you for one more thing as I pray that everything will turn out well.  Can I get a Hallelujah?