To me every hour of the light and the dark is a miracle
– Walt Whitman –
Winter is making itself felt. The mornings are downright cold, leaves are falling, and the clouds are putting on more dramatic displays. We are still waiting (with a small degree of anxiety) for the winter rains to set in. Having suffered a drought a few years ago I hold my breath just a bit until enough rain falls so I can see the water streaming down the mountains as the springs are replenished.
I hit a bump in the road when my husband developed very severe sciatica recently. He experienced so much pain. I found it so hard to watch that, to not be able to do something to fix it. I allowed myself to become almost paralysed by fear and by this great sense of how unfair it was. Hip surgery all good, he worked hard at recovery and now look…. of course that kind of self-pity stops one from seeing all that was good, all that I and yes, my husband as well, had to be grateful for. I am most grateful that somehow I am always pulled up, always reminded that what matters is how we respond to what is happening. And that it is true that if we should be given a choice, we all would usually choose our own trouble above that of someone else’s. Thankfully it feels like we are turning a corner with the sciatica with the help of a bio kineticist.
Such joys have come our way as well! We have a son that lives in France and although we always miss him, are always aware that it is a long way away, it was not until covid that it felt like the distance could be measured in light years. In between there and here were PCR tests and rising case numbers and countries being redlined. Oh gosh, the bliss and the blessing of facetime and online visits but dear reader, he is here! Our boy is here in person. I had so schooled myself to accept the constraints of covid and work that the rush of emotion when he actually came through the arrivals gate absolutely overwhelmed me! Tears just rushed up and even now a week later I still have moments of emotional wobble.
We are also celebrating in this week our 53rd anniversary. Is it not a great thing to be here where we are, in old age, still together and both of us better at being together? One learns to be more tender, more forgiving, more accepting. In this life we all fall short of love. But blessedly we can pick up the slack for one another.
….grace comes to forgive
and then forgive again
– Rumi –