When I Don’t Know What To Say

A huge thank you to everyone for your lovely comments, texts, and e-mails over the last few days. I generally respond to each and every note left on my site, but needed to take a little break from online engagement while I continue to process some recent events. Your support has buoyed my spirits. How I treasure this community; you add richness and joy and compassion to my days.

While this space has been a safe place for me to discuss the ups and downs of life, there are some personal situations that I mindfully and intentionally do not discuss in open detail here on the blog. One complicated dynamic in my life was abruptly impacted in recent days and this weekend has been predominantly spent in a dazed state. I’m sitting here on Sunday afternoon feeling like the world is spinning off its axis, as though I’ll suddenly wake up and discover I’ve been roused from a nightmare.

Earlier today I read a discussion about gratitude lists where someone subtly railed against them being disingenuous. Well, sitting here with giant emotions is certainly my reality. Sadness and anxiety and loss and overwhelm and confusion and shock and guilt. I can list those emotions; I can rate them on a scale and tell you the parts of my body that feel the physiological manifestations of those emotions. Sometimes I’m powerless to control my brain’s response. But other times I manage to recognize that rooting myself in the current moment and identifying objectively (and subjectively) “good things” can put me on the path to mental wholeness. Being grateful for the sunshine or a hug or for the birds singing outside my window doesn’t mean I feel the hard emotions any less. But it can offset and ground me in two current realities. Pain and joy are not mutually exclusive; they are cohabitors.

But gratitude has to fight much harder for access to space.

Stream-of-consciousness gratitude:

• The hum of cool air circulating through our ductwork. We’re launching into another heat wave and I remain truly grateful for air conditioning.
• A timely message at church this morning.
• The sound of the kids watching TV. I needed time alone and right now screens are a true gift.
• Long, quiet, tender hugs from John while I process and wrestle with life events. For understanding and supporting me in ways no one else can.
• Bags packed and sitting ready beside me; A is set for another exciting week of leadership camp.
• Sunshine out the window.
• The comfort of my corner chair.
• The Message Bible translation.
• The polka-dot pattern on my shorts. I love polka dots.
• Understanding words from a friend.
• Having leftovers in the fridge so lunch came together seamlessly.
• The sound of a lawnmower somewhere in the neighbourhood.