i know this is the season of being present. of paying deep attention. of being grateful. but for me, for many years, this season was a recount of loss and grief. it was a season of unspoken pain and memory. only in the last several years has it been different for me. i feel different and more whole because of it, too. when we release our grief and really take ownership of our hurts (instead of always being the ‘fine’ one. the ‘strong’ one.), we really do free up some space within ourselves for growth. not only do we get healing, but we get growth. but still, sometimes i feel myself slipping into moments of melancholy. it’s only natural.
i am feeling grown lately. as if i’m stretching into something more specifically me. it’s a feeling of bursting, on the edge of something, but having no idea what that ‘something’ may be. i just feel it and it feels warm and fuzzy. i’m also feeling the blessings of this life, but also the burden of blessings, too. i’ve been working at the hospital this week as they’re desperate for social workers…and i wanted to be in that space a bit more right now. today, i found myself talking with a very young cancer patient, not far from my age, and with a newborn baby. she was like many of us. loved her life. loved her man. followed her bliss. she warmed me with her story and her compassion and her fearlessness. she said something today that really struck me. she said the hardest lesson in her recent illness was to “allow her vulnerability to enter her everyday life and relationships.” yes. i get that. i’m learning that, too. i left her room with the perspective, as i often have after talking with cancer patients who are in the very center of their lives, that i must let go of the smallness of life. the details. the things that simply don’t matter. a few weeks ago, john and i decided that this year for christmas we would give one another nothing but a letter. we do this on our anniversaries, but have decided to do it this year for christmas, too. we have everything we could ever need. a thoughtful letter, in his handwriting, to me, sounds perfect to me right now. especially after this day i had on the oncology unit.
i am loving the spirit of togetherness lately. we are all connected, collected like a handful of wild flowers in the palm of this world. i am moved by it and feel very much supported by it, too.
how are you? i really want to know.
Hi, I'm Kelly Rae Roberts!
Before I picked up my first paintbrush at the age of 30, I was a medical social worker. I followed my whispers and started playing with paint and everything changed.
Now I’m a full-time artist, author and Possibilitarian, who helps women explore and nourish their creative souls.
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