Dear friends,
I want to tell you that about nine months ago, a series of events began unfolding, each one leading to the next, like dominoes falling one by one.
I want to tell you why and who and how, but all I can say is that it has felt unbearable at times, like I’m being crushed, like someone has laid my body down and begun stacking heavy rocks on top of me. First on my chest. Then my legs.
But I also want to tell you about the tiny miracles of human kindness that have appeared along the way. Little by little, they have softened the weight of what I’ve been carrying, lifting the stones one by one.
I started keeping a list of them in my phone. It’s become a kind of megaphone to my spirit, reminding me that people are good, that I am protected, that this season will pass, and that my job is simply to keep being brave and compassionate with myself.
The other day, as I was walking into Walmart, I heard someone call out, “Hey, miss!” I turned around to see a rugged, slightly toothless man sitting in a pickup truck. “I just wanted to tell you that you are incredibly beautiful,” he said.
Meanwhile, I was wearing a T-shirt and jeans. I hadn’t showered in days. I was deep in the abyss of moving and unpacking (yes, we moved again). But his sincerity reached me. Something about it felt so unexpected, so off-script, like finding a daisy growing through a crack in the sidewalk. I smiled all the way through the store.
Later, I added it to my list in my phone, right next to “My realtor, who sent the most loving text message,” and “My friend, a world away, who sent me a journaling prompt that helped me write some of it out,” and “My mom, who baked a gluten-free cake for John’s birthday because she knew we were completely maxed out.”
Tiny kindnesses. Tiny wonders. Tiny noticings and reminders that buoy the spirit.
It’s been nine months of hard labor. But this morning, for the first time in a long time, I woke up with the faintest sense that we might finally be nearing the end of this particular chapter. That perhaps we are arriving at the place where we can stop simply surviving and begin discovering what wants to grow from all of this. I don’t know exactly what comes next, but I can feel the outline of a new life beginning to take shape.
In the coming months, I’ll share more about this season and everything it has held. For now, though, as I continue to let go and surrender and heal and rebuild, I’ve been thinking a lot about how I want to spend my time and where I want to put my energy.
To help myself get started, I have notes in my calendar that say things like: Stretch. Wear your joy. Make art. Call a friend. Drink water. Noticing practice.
The noticing practice is about paying attention to the kindnesses, but it’s also about seeing things with a new lens. The other day, while on a walk, I was absolutely astonished to see feathered animals floating on water. Can you believe it? My mind was blown. Of course, ducks are something we see all the time, but for a moment I saw them as if for the very first time. Furry animals. Floating on water! It felt miraculous.
Here’s to living in the messiness while being astonished by one cute floating animal at a time!
xoxoox, Kelly Rae
