Couldn't have said it any better...

What do you say to the friend who offers the perfect soliloquy? 
To the one who hears the whisper so low only the Spirit who connects us could possibly bring it to his ear?
If I could, I would tell him that once I looked for my stars in the sky, but I've chosen now to find them in the sea.  They are wiser stars...they'll wear their years as an adornment.
I would tell him that I chose the sea over the sky, but truly the sea had been before me all the while.  I just couldn't see it for the mist. But as I made the turn I saw the path backlit all the way from the beginning.
It begets wonder.
Guardian.
Worthy.  A word I haven't been able to use before.  There is no revenge.  Only maybe, finally, home.   

Cornelia

I remember asking her once, how she could stand being pregnant for 10 years.
She laughed as if it had never occurred to her that it might be strange. Then she said, with the utmost sincerity, "Well, after a while I didn't really notice."
It's a wonder the things you can get used to.

train wreck

She rides a long line of leavings

Cutting the remains of cords still cleaving

Quick, shallow breathings

Then a shock, a deep heaving

Panic takes her air

Purple and Green

My colors.  By that I do not mean they are my favorite colors, but that when I look at them I see me.  It's an oddity I know, to see people's colors.  But it is one oddity I don't mind.
And I guess that's what I felt today when I got the scarf...that she didn't mind either.  It sort of meant the world.

The Passing...

I am currently experiencing the dull mindedness that comes with percocet, supermotrin, and some other fun thing they put in my IV.  So you probably shouldn't expect anything eloquent tonight.
I have collected a few memories from today, along with socks with treading and a new yellow bracelet. 
1) I do not get an award today for suffering in silence.
2) Sarah's brave little assurance that she would take care of Mommy while Em went to fetch Heather will go down in Mommy Memory Land forever.  "You go, Emily, I'll take care of Mommy."  Then she came in and rubbed my head and I tried to groan quietly so as not to frighten her.
3) Ron, the EMT in the ambulance was feeling so bad that he couldn't do anything for my pain.  He kept making suggestions that were completely unhelpful, but he was so sweet I appreciated the effort. He kept saying how sorry he was he couldn't give me anything. I almost stopped complaining (OK, it was more like screaming) to try to comfort him. Then when the pain subsided and I laid there exhausted he kept asking me annoying questions.  I'm sure he was trying to make sure I hadn't passed out, but seriously, I can't remember numbers when I'm clear headed.  I kept holding up my fingers to answer his questions so he knew I was listening, but I was not about to make the effort to speak.  I did thank him, but I'm not sure he heard.  Maybe I'll take him some flowers.
4) Sam, the ER CCNP, told me my urine was unimpressive.  Hmmmm....What does impressive urine look like?
Then he told me I was the proud parent of a kidney stone.
Lovely.
And there is another one, even larger, in my kidney that I'm saving for a rainy day.
5) ER doctors do not have the whole bedside manner thing going for them. They should make them watch McDreamy as part of continuing education.

Wonderland

Ted and Nancy Johnson drove Matt and I to Oregon.  We had a long day in Portland, and arrived at our hotel on the Columbia River just as the rain and sun set in.  Nancy got it in her head that she wanted to find the alpaca farm for knitting yarn.  The men were tired, but I'm always up for an adventure.  We weren't sure if it would be open for business.  It was late in the season and as we ended up taking the long road there, it was late in the day, too.  Finally, after following sign after sign after sign, we knew we were close.  We traveled through orchards and vineyards and golden fall foliage before we found the alpaca farm. It sat up and into the hills. With the elevation came an unexpected transformation.  Rain turned to snow. 
The memory of it all still takes my breath away.   Each delicate flake was so defined I could almost discern its pattern from afar. Silence fell upon us as the sky powdered the tallest, straightest, evergreenest trees I had ever laid eyes on.  Like feathers gently blessing every branch.  We were blanketed in beauty and I thought to myself, I don't think I have ever seen anything quite so lovely in all my life.  And yet, I had never expected snow to captivate me so.  I love the sea. It's always been my muse. But here I was, lulled and rocked by another sort of wave.  Snow sweetening every surface, frosting the world before me, bringing crystals to my eyes. I didn't want it ever to end.    

Very, Very Small

The only thing I know to do right now is to grow very small.  To curl up in the corner of my sanctuary and wait and bow and draw the presence of God to me through humility.  He who reveals, He who grants, He who draws all things together and into being. 
He who gives grace and sanctification to walk the path He places before our feet. 
This is almost too much to wrap my head around.  I feel elated and confused and so hopeful. 
And yet so afraid--of myself mostly, and the questions I don't have anwers for.
So anxious not to have to lead through this.