Good Days and Bad Days

There's a phrase we all use to describe the state of someone recovering from an event. When asked, "How is she?" the answer is often, "Well, she has good days and bad days." It's easy to know what triggers the bad ones...a look, a word, some sound or a song. A fragrance, maybe from the kitchen, or on the wind. And the floodgates open and the tidal wave washes over and it starts again, the slide down into the loss, and the process of trying to come back, of recounting the reasons to come back, and the awful, terrible, soul-eating loneliness of it. But what triggers a good day? So easy to flick that switch and create the bad ones.

But how to create a good one? I think that is a crucial part of the process of healing - learning how to deliberately choose thoughts that feel good. What I have finally recovered is the ability to pull my thoughts onto something postive, something that creates good feelings. It takes courage not to pick at the wound, which seems to give some kind of backwards relief. But I realized that the time has come to try really hard to feel better. I am not always successful, but I am getting some small measure of skill at it. What has been a saving grace is mastering all the necessessary skills entailed in meeting and communicating with people, and the daily routine of having tasks that are important not only to me but to the ones who are depending on me.

The last few days have been good ones. The sun is shining, the air is warming, birds are nesting and the trees are budding. Life returns. Thank the Lord for the persistence of Nature.

Never Give Up and Never Give In!

Hang in for the Happy Ending! There is success with persistence.

Transitions

The most difficult stage of labor is called transition. It is that moment when the life force totally has its way with the woman giving a new life to the world, when the emerging being moves from within the womb, down into the birth canal. The pain is at its most intense, and the mother is in the grip of a power than cannot be denied, or controlled. She must surrender herself to God, and to her helpers, and breathe this new life into the world.

We often find ourselves in transitions in life. The pain is near to unbearable, and nothing we do can stop the process. With no other options, we call out to God, and we lean on the helping hands around us. And somehow, we survive it, and the new self we are struggling to breathe life into, emerges.

I never believed that at my age I would be asked to endure such events, or face such radical life changes. But in this pain, and amidst these irretrievable losses, doors are opening.

I remember my grandmother, and the women her age. In that generation, I would be well on my way to becoming an old woman, settling in at home, and winding down my responsibilities. I look at my hands, and I see the physical signs of age. But I feel my spirit, and I know I am still...just me. This last year I have lost much of what I loved best, much of what I drew on to define me. Some of those dearest to me in all the world are now gone. But I passed the test. I stood at the crossroads, and I chose to keep going forward, to redefine myself not by my losses, but by my choice to reclaim life. The Holy Mother has stood beside me through this transition whispering, that she too, lost.

I have understood, with God's help, that the way to reclaim our life is to give our life away. I know I have much yet to give, much yet to receive. Last year, I had the great good fortune to spend six precious months in the amazing country of Romania. Little did I know then, that that time, and those dear people I met there, would prove to be God's saving grace to get me through this dark time. Romania calls and I return, now at last to fulfill an old dream of teaching. By August I should be back in my beloved Romania, sitting with my dear friend, and eating our dinner together...sharing the simple pleasures of mămăliga and goat cheese, and maybe if I am lucky, a little tuică.

I want to acknowledge my beloved son David, who walks the road less travelled, and who has been a brick in my foundation for his whole life. Dave you are a true heart, you have given me some of the purest, most honest, most powerful love any human being has ever received. You are a guiding light for me, now and for always. I could not have made it without you.