Tonight I was perusing some of my friends' blogs for a few minutes before turning in and I came across a link to a Draper friend who I haven't seen in quite some time, so I began to read. She shared some of her most intimate thoughts about her marriage, her love for her children and her husband, and her love for her recently deceased father and I found myself weeping with her as I read. I even feel that somehow I have stepped inside her world and we've held each other through the darkness of her loss. And I began to think of all the lost loves that we all face. And I realized as I read her beautiful prose how much I love to write and how I have really almost abandoned that passion in the past few years. How could I disregard a love that has brought me so much solace and joy over the years?
I have loved and lost many times in my life. There are the obvious...the first love, the first car, the childhood home, innocence of youth...and then there are the losses I have faced that I don't share so readily. But to rekindle a lost love, like the love of writing, is a gift indeed. I do not have much time, but if I am to truly love writing then I must devote time to it or it will simply become a has-been in my treasure chest of loss.
And so I recommit to write another day.
I believe that one of the most crucial steps we must take in this life is to inch our way toward authenticity, toward sharing our hearts with others and not being afraid of the darkness, the loss, the triumph, the REALITY of our lives. If we can join together in our journeys then we will never be alone. I think of some of the dearest friends I have in this life and they are the ones with whom I can be honest about my feelings and struggles and who will not judge me but will encircle me with compassion and love and empathy when possible.
I also know that one of the reasons I have the experiences that I do is so I can share them with others, that we may buoy each other up and learn from each other and most importantly, learn to lean on each other and be PRESENT in another's pain as well as in their JOY. There are many times I have failed at this. I've been working on it for many years and hopefully I am not failing as miserably as I once did.
I have a group of dear friends who I have known for many years. Several I have known since I was 6 years old. They recently came to see me and the babies and we shared my joy and celebrated this miraculous experience. While I know these babies are mine, for a moment I felt as if they were experiencing their own miracle, because we have shared our lives for so many years, it's as if my miracle belongs to them. I love to share my miracle with them. It will hopefully balance out the heartaches we have shared over the years, including cancer, infertility, distance, child-rearing struggles, and other health related problems. How I love these women. How I adore them and hope that someday we will sit around a table with white hair, playing cards or sipping lemonade and laugh about all the silly things we worried so much about in our lives. And we will look back on our photos and also remember how we shared it all, and I will remember that the year in my life when God blessed me with an enormous miracle, they were there to share in the joy.
And it feels good to write.
