I am overwhelmed.
I think probably the only person who knows the depth of my heart ache on Thanksgiving is my niece, Aila. Who – under the stunning glow of the moonlight – in the crisp evening before a round of rain – kissed me so sweetly in astonishment of my tears. After a hug from her plastic horse, I laid down on the earth and looked up to the sky. My heart was in pieces as I talked to my mom about my pain, my faith, and my desire to love.
Struggle goes through phases as does merit, reward, and courage. Pain and regret happen as randomly as upright clarity. In the questions we ask of our past, we find our future. In the requests we make of others, we find God’s requests of us.
My emotions are so deep – I was with a writer friend a week or so ago and in her critique of an incredibly sensual piece she asked “how deep are her emotions? how much more can we know of her?” And though the woman in my piece wasn’t me, her feminine core was my reflection. To that, the answer to that question simply brings images of oceans, galaxies, and – oddly enough – a muddy puddle.
In my suffering, I have asked God to show me beauty – to help me understand how his love radiates and to put it through me: to my daughters, to my family and friends, to the world. I am really moved – I am crying, actually as I write this – because I have found so much joy in my confusion and in my sadness, I have found so much strength. I have peace in my change. In my worry, I have gained confidence.
And, well, receiving so much love through posting a picture of me and my daughters is so much more than a nice photo – this picture is all of what I described, not just for me but for my daughters as well, and – with snot running out of my nose right now – I just want to thank God.
Frozen Spaghetti 