Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Gloom and gratitude.

A week full of fragility.

Sarah, my best mate, is in the hospital, 
after a serious car accident on Saturday,
suffering from fractures in her neck, ribs, and pelvis.

At the moment, I despise living an ocean away.

This evening, I went out walking through the low tide, 
in search of crabs, sea stars or beauty.

Sea lice, broken bottles, and barnacle encrusted sheep skulls were all I discovered.

Walking home, my ipod self-destructed and the beloved Alaskan boots sprung a leak.

Plans keep shifting. I long for structure and normality.
Decisions and dreaming and a million muddled choices.

Ah, the limbo of the last weeks.

Grandma always reminds me to thankfully embrace everything.
All those sharp, nasty experiences are there to teach us how to be more lovely.

More gracious.

In my Bible, I keep two lists. 
They are frequently consulted on dreary days.


While in Spain, suffering a bout of post-Christmas homesickness,
I started compiling a prayer list of all the lovely people I know.

Dear friends in Bellingham. Lettered Streets. Plain.
Washington. Oregon. California. Montana. Arizona.
East Coast. West Coast.
USA. Canada.

So many treasured folks. 

Whenever I feel overwhelmed with self pity or loneliness,
I take it out and I'm reminded of what a gift it is
to walk through life with them.


Gratitude and all the things that bless, comfort and astound.
Gratitude turns everything into enough.

Regardless of whatever corner of the world I happen to be in, this list stays pretty constant.
When I shuffle through them, I want the pages of my life to be riddled with thanksgiving.

For today I appreciate:

Leaves on willow branches. Wild geese. Spinach omelette sharing with Tegan. 
Spices from home. Bonfire in a mexican blanket. Belly laughing. Lavender tea.
Grace. Long daylight hours and a fiery sunset over the fjord.
Truth and savoury metaphors. Intimate conversations. Sunshine yellow mittens. 
 Low maintenance hair and sleeping in. Long explorations of the wild sea. Quiet space.
Free phone calls to home and my mother's humor. Understanding. Being loved. 
Stark, snowy mountains. Hot water over ice cold fingers.


Honestly, a year from now,
none of this current mess will be of any consequence, really.

"It's all good, even when it's not good"-Jim Donath

Everything will unfold, delightfully.

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