Fragile

On Saturday morning I woke up and I knew it was time.  The sun was casting its brilliant beams through our windows and even if I wanted to, I knew I couldn’t resist.  I pulled on my shorts and t-shirt, grabbed my running shoes and after doing a few stretches, I headed for the door and walked out into the brisk 37 degree temperatures.  As I walked down our driveway, I put the ear buds in my ears, and switched the Ipod to “Shuffle”.  Within moments, the rhythm of my breath matched the rhythm of the pounding of my feet and I knew. . . I was back.  The surgeries were a distant memory and for a moment, the nausea was bearable, and I was back to being me. 

I was on my first outdoor, solo run of the season, and I knew that this would be the topic of Monday’s blog. 

I knew I would talk about this place where I go and feel completely peaceful and absolutely free.  I couldn’t wait to share how I was able to reconnect to that place on the road that cleared my head and made every thought clearer, every trial smaller, and every question seem unimportant.

And then in a moment, everything changes.  In a moment, what seemed important yesterday feels very unimportant today.  When joy was evident on one day, sadness is present the next.  In a moment–everything changes.

My dad called me today and I learned that our family has suffered another devastating loss.  And while I’m not going to go into the details, I am left feeling heart-broken, numb, and helpless.  Once again, I stand face to face with the fragility of life and feel. . .

I don’t even know what I’m feeling.

Sometimes, there just aren’t words.  Sometimes, there aren’t answers.  Sometimes, there isn’t comfort.  Sometimes. . . it just hurts.

And I come to this space again to pound the emotions out on the keyboard.  To try to make sense of it.  To try to understand.  When it comes down it, though, I know that I can’t make sense out of senseless things.  Some things can’t be wrapped up in a box with a pretty bow.  Some things, no matter how much you look at them, are ugly.

So tonight, I found myself holding tighter to my little ones.  I took them to a park and with a tear-stained face I watched their innocence and I prayed. . .

. . . for them, for our family, for all those that experience loss.  And if I’m really being honest. . . I’m scared.  In a moment, everything can change and that scares me.  I am aware that there is a part of me that feels like I am in control.  If I watch close enough, hold tight enough, and love enough. . . then I can control it.  It is days like this when I have to face it. . . I’m not in control.

And I will myself to not take this life for granted.  Not to take these moments for granted.  Not to wish this season away, or count on tomorrow.  I am reminded that today is all I have and I must keep my eyes open to its beauty.

I apologize if this sounds depressing–that is not my intention.  I guess I am just reminding myself that life doesn’t have to be big to be beautiful.  Shaking myself awake to the realization of the preciousness and sacredness that exists in every day, every hour, every breath.  Willing myself, and you dear reader, to see it wherever you are.  To see the beauty and to love it.  To hold our loved ones a little tighter, to say ‘I love you’ more, to look into the eyes of those you are talking to and to take it all in. . .

. . . because this life is a most precious and fragile gift.