Relearning or Refining Breathlessness

I’m struggling to find my voice again.  Or struggling to find a balance to it.

When something as significant as losing a family member to cancer happens to you, invariably the dichotomy of ‘things that matter’ is flipped upside down.  Suddenly, the only things that seem really worth thinking about, or writing about, or talking about must be these life-and-death struggles…  with cancer, or…  grief…  or challenges overcome.  That is what twists your heart the hardest, and so it seems it is the only thing that people should be allowed to talk about with any zeal.  Or at least….  it should be the only thing you are allowed to talk about with any zeal.

But…  for now that chapter of my life is at least on hold.  I’m certain that cancer and grievous difficulty will rear it’s ugly head into my life at some point or another in some capacity, but right now it seems sensible to let life be about more than that….  or less than that.

But I sit down to the computer and I try to write a post that is about something hum-drum, and find that the dichotomy is still in place.  I find that those weighty things still fill up the greater portion of my slack-time thoughts.  And I find that part of me still doesn’t feel ‘allowed’ to focus on the little anecdotes of the day or the minor triumphs and irritations that I’ve run into.

I want to blog about fun little things, and things ordinary but holy, and even frivolous funny boring tidbits, but I feel like I’ve forgotten how. 

I need to give myself permission to have feelings and thoughts about things which don’t take my breath away.

Or…  I need to remember how to let my breath be taken away by little things.

It still is, really.  In many ways even more than before.  Little Miss will run up and hug me and kiss me when I beg her for kisses and I will gasp at the beautiful little girl that she is becoming. Husband will kiss me so deeply that I feel it down to my toes, and you can bet I’m breathless then.  We’ll go to the beach and I’ll sit and soak in the sun and the breeze and look for seals and instead of my breath being taken away, it is given back to me.  That all still happens.

But it doesn’t always float to the top of the surface. 

I have changed, and I feel like I have been allowed the privilege of knowing what is important in a way I never did before.  But I know that sometime soon I will again be overly-concerned with paying bills, and making dinner.  I am finding increasingly more time for being mad at myself over the reflection in the mirror, and I do find that I feel I have more and more reason to complain about the person in line in front of me at the grocery store.  This feels like a good thing and a bad thing all wrapped into one.

I believe that we stub out toes on holiness every day in our ordinary life…  and I want to plunge in again to discovering that holiness anew each moment of my day and being able to talk about it–whether it is heavy with meaning and purpose or just a grocery shopping trip with Little Miss.

Maybe I have done that in some small measure in this post.  I hope so.


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