After years of literary silence, I have been moved to write.
No inspiring quotes. No poignant images. No related links.
Just these words that flowed from me following a series of recent events…
As a parent, I believe one of the most difficult things to endure is the distress of a child – any child, but especially your own. To see a child suffering wrenches at the very fibre of my being. It tugs at every single string of my heart and draws up buckets of empathy from the wellspring of my compassion. The wretchedness of such situations sends pangs of anxiety and woe surging through my veins – although this is a only a side stream to the torrent of emotions which wrack my body with convulsions of helplessness and hopelessness.
Are you feeling me yet?
But isn’t it amazing how the troubling moments in life challenge us to dig deep. Allowing us to discover that we do indeed possess the courage, and strength to hold it together.
To be STRONG.
Surviving – nay, perservering from one moment to the next until we emerge, tired but triumphant on the other side of whatever difficulties we have been facing.
And difficult times often allow for a whole new appreciation and awareness of the previously, and seemingly mundane…
A hot shower.
Clean clothes on a clean body. A toothbrush.
The pure, unadulterated bliss of slowly, and deliberately climbing into your very own bed with the sheer and utter exhaustion of a loving parent who is unbelievably happy to be home after a rough week and only a few hours of broken sleep the night before in a hospital bed next to her 4 year old son.
The gentle rise and fall of a little boy’s chest as he breathes normally.
Yes. It is the difficult times that inspire and move us to appreciate and be thankful for not only the good times, but also for the little joys in everyday life.
My Wobbly Life 