Monica Bielanko
That's What She Said
Just A Junk Drawer Dream
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Tragically Beautiful

A lot of the time I want to reach up with both hands, curl my fingers around a handful of collar bone and just start ripping. Calmly tear my body wide open until you can see my heart pumping violently, the smooth, white xylophone of rib cage, miles of glistening intestine, the giant wad of panic forever lodged in my esophagus. Don't look away. Here it is: the blood and guts of humanity. It's great and it's terrible and awesome and unspeakably tragic. Look at it.

The tragedy is everywhere in everything and I find myself obsessing.

I see a lot of dead animals on the freeway and my mind aches with the tragedy of it all. The tragedy of dead, that everything dies. The tragedy of that moment, when such a beautiful creature collided with a thousand pounds of steel, guts spilling onto an unforgiving roadway. The lifeless bag of bones that is the dead deer, soft, brown eyes frozen in a forever stare. The tragedy that a road was built right through the animal's home. The tragedy that the road had to be built through a pristine forest so I, and millions of Diet Coke guzzling, McDonalds eating assholes before and after me, could use it to go to motherfucking Walmart. The tragedy of Walmart.

I saw another dead deer on the side of the freeway this morning and thought of that scene in American Beauty. The one with the plastic bag floating around in the air.

"Sometimes there is so much beauty in the world I feel like I can't take it and my heart is just going to cave in" is what the kid says in the scene while he and the girl watch the video of the plastic bag dancing with the wind. And that's what I feel like when I look at my kids. These human beings that exist because of me. Because we wanted them so much. Children are so pure and sweet but I can't keep them that way forever and then the panic begins to mountain climb my throat and no amount of swallowing can dislodge it..

The tragedy roars in again. That this isn't forever. That I don't know what happens. And what if something bad happens? In one second everything can change and I have been obsessed with that second. Is it near?

I observe my friend, Katie Granju, whose son Henry died, and sometimes I can't breathe. I don't know how she does it. I just don't know. Another tragic beauty. Someone so full up with heartache it leaks out of her all the time, sometimes gushing waterfalls of pain and anger but most of the time tiny trickles, dribbling out here and there when she doesn't think anyone is looking, when she's trying to be happy for those around her. She gets up and moves forward doing such kind things for people even though she probably wants to grab the shoulders of strangers and shake them until their eyes roll and scream MY SON! MY SON IS DEAD! MY BEAUTIFUL BABY IS GONE! And we can all shuffle around here on the sidelines and watch her pain but we don't know how it really feels, and honestly, although we feel badly we're relieved. Relieved that it isn't us.

The fear is so overwhelming that I try to focus on the little things. Like a plastic bag dancing in the wind. There is such beauty in the mundane. And I am trying to find it. The way the lamp post across the street spotlights the snowfall at night, Max snoring, the sound of Violet singing made up songs at five in the morning, Henry catching his breath and jumping excitedly in his crib when I enter his room, leaving an open can of tuna for the homeless cat who stalks our house and watching him gulp it down, the staccato clip-clip of horses pulling buggies past our house... Focus on the beauty, not the tragedy, I tell myself. But I can't. This season I'm majoring in depression and I'm getting all A's. I see the beauty for a moment and then, like staring slightly cross-eyed at one of those computer generated images until the secret picture appears, the tragedy rises up and obscures everything else. The very fact that something is so beautiful is tragic because it doesn't last. Nothing lasts forever.

What seemingly mundane part of your life makes you inexplicably happy?

Reader Comments (40)

I really like the ice and the moment when I step out of the car and almost fall but then not quite. Here in MN it's been a weird winter and it seems like it's halfway to spring one day and then bitter cold and snowing the next, so we're hanging in this liminal moment between the two. When I step out of the car I'm also in that liminal moment between going and busy-ness and schedules, and coming home where the dishes are never all clean and the kid (age nearly 4) is perpetually cutting paper snowflakes and I will never be done with grad school. Then I slip, and I am totally in the moment, and it makes me smile because little moments are what makes up life, so I enjoy them when I can.

February 14, 2012 | Unregistered CommenterMarie

this is gut-wrenchingly beautiful. that is all.

February 14, 2012 | Unregistered Commenterbec

When I hear a bird sing... it never ceases to fill me with happy. From the 'scolding' of a hummingbird to the chirping of a robin: perfection.

Something that I have done lately is writing down the good stuff. Three things on an index card. I then tape it to my bathroom mirror where I am surprised by it over and over! I read it each time because it's really easy to forget the good stuff. Not only has this little exercise forced me to change my perception, it has changed my life.

February 14, 2012 | Unregistered CommenterKaren

Tragedy is everywhere. I am acutely aware of it since my son died 6 years ago. But so is kindness and beauty. For me, the key to is try to focus more on the kindness and beauty than tragedy. As for your question, playing a game and singing songs with my two young living children is mundane, but makes me happy. So does laying my head on my cold pillow each night because I am so tired.

February 14, 2012 | Unregistered CommenterJill

I hear you. I do. Four tragic deaths in as many months. A couple of other unfortunate losses as well. 2011 was an old son of a bitch. I'd just barely catch my breath and someone would call me at work with more news of loss. It got to the point that I turned off my ringer on my phone. For like a month. Grief is a bitch. We made it through the holidays. I no longer begin sobbing uncontrollably when I'm reading bed time stories, driving, or reading out loud to my 8th grade students. I am even at the point where I can yell at my kids without the guilt that they might die in five minutes. Time. It does its job.

February 14, 2012 | Unregistered CommenterShannon B.

I have constant fears and images of car accidents and abductions and falls and drownings but mainly car accidents and it hurts so much to think my beautiful children and husband - that anyone's beautiful children, husband, whoever, are all living with risk of any such violent and senseless tragedy. I have to push it back, block it out because it's there. It's real. But what good does it do to ruminate? Michael J. Fox was quoted saying something that I obviously can't remember properly or do justice to, but it was along the lines of, I'm a positive person because there's no point worrying about the worst scenario, because then if it happens you've experienced it twice. What a wise man. As for mundane beauty, I love catching how rising or setting suns flicker momentry light inside my home. I don't often, and especially in this particular house unfortunately. Also stormy skies - we live in the tropics and it fills me with excitement and wonder when I see a storm rolling in. I think, all this sunlight and all these storm clouds are new but they've been happening for longer than I can imagine and will still be here after I'm gone. Those kinds of things I find comforting.

February 14, 2012 | Unregistered CommenterSteph

Im glad, in a way, to know that I'm not the only one pausing to think of the animals killed by cars... I had a blindingly painful and beautiful moment with one that died in my arms, which I wrote about, this was published as an editorial, so the gory details aren't there, but the message still is...

February 15, 2012 | Unregistered CommenterLauren Acquaviva

Wow. Beautiful words.

The mundane that makes me happy: 1. My dog. I've loved all of my dogs but my current dog? Oh my gosh, I am insanely in love with her and just seeing her soulful eyes makes my heart sing. 2. A chilly day when the sun is shining brightly. 3. Finding beautiful words on the internet.

February 15, 2012 | Unregistered CommenterGreenInOC

since my best friend died almost 5 years ago, a perfectly healthy beautiful 27 year old, (and for no "good" reason, sudden cardiac arrest in her sleep whilst napping on a long distance bus) i always have this horrible feeling that everything is slipping through my fingers... last night we had a lovely dinner at home for v-day with my husband, and we were so happy just gazing into each other's eyes and as i smiled, i felt like this dark cloud passing overhead and i remember thinking "there will be a day when i don't get to see him smiling at me anymore" and i had to hold back the tears so i wouldn't ruin the evening. fuck, i want to cry just typing this. that is also my biggest fear, holding me back from having kids... i don't dare bring someone into this world and love them so much and face that every single day. perish the thought.

things that make me inexplicably happy? mmm... lately, a candle. my mom sent me this scented candle that smells like a flower that is very typical in my country around christmas time, that i've never smelled anywhere else.... flor de coco, the flower of a palm tree. i put it in my last drawer and mostly forgot it was there. every time i open my desk to get something out, i get that little whiff of home from so far away, and it never fails to make me smile.

beautiful writing, monica. i feel like this uncertainty and these crisis are so hard to live through, but they do bring out the very best in a good writer. thank you for sharing it.

February 15, 2012 | Unregistered Commenteranother monica

That was painfully beautiful Monica. Your writing, and words are beautiful. Thats how I feel ALL THE TIME! That inevitable phone wiil come.

February 15, 2012 | Unregistered Commentermama

This is simply beautifully written. You capture how a lot of us sometimes feel, I'm sure.

Someone I know lost her husband last year, suddenly and as yet, still unexplained. Having watched her grief from a distance, it has really made me think so much about how everything can go, just like that. In a heartbeat, in a second, in a moment. There and then, gone.

But yes, like you, I have tried not to dwell on that, and instead focus on the beauty in the world, and also on trying to make my life count. Doing everything I dream of doing, making the most of the time I do have. Trying to remember the bigger picture of what is important.

It might sound corny, but meditation makes me really happy. Finding the peace, silence and stillness within me amidst all the noise, chaos and bustle of this crazy world, is in itself, a thing of beauty.

I like just being out in nature, trees, sunshine, birds, little things that make me smile. Spending time with my friends.

Doing something to help others, make me happy. There are many things that I can't think of right now.

I am sorry you are hurting right now. I hope the writing helps you let it out. As well as knowing there are many of us thinking of you, and sending positive vibes your way.

February 15, 2012 | Unregistered CommenterA

Cresting up over the Highway to see the Atlanta skyline, it always takes my breath away and makes me giddy. We only live 20 minutes from downtown, but it still makes me furiously happy.

When my children draw something that is actually legible and they swell with pride, furiously happy and I myself, am so proud.

This is just a stage in life, or maybe life is just a stage. Regardless, the most important aspects of YOUR life are under that same roof as you. I live with the lump of panic too, but I try to remember that if I'm too focused on the panic and that stupid ass lump, I miss everything important going on around me.

February 15, 2012 | Unregistered CommenterSUPAHMAMA

Wednesday nights, my husband works late, so I have dinner at my parent's house, and when I leave, my dad walks me to my car,gives me a hug and a kiss, and that moment fills me with such peace. Because that moment, it doesn't matter how grown up I am-how many bills I've paid, or commutes I've made to and from my office-in that moment, I'm just a daughter. That's it. And I know that someday, my dad won't be there, and I will want to trade everything I have for just one more moment of feeling that way. So, on my way home I pray words of fierce gratitude for another week where we're all healthy and where this is our normal. Because who really knows when that inevitable griefs that come with being human will roll in and change everything?

It's very easy to let your mind creep into the tragedy-and when my mind starts to roll down that rabbit hole a little farther than I'd like, I sing and do something busy, like go work out in my yard-something physical and tangible, so I remember that all that sorrow will catch up to us someday, but I'm going to make sure I DO things today- even if that's singing "Vacation" by the Go-Go's, and deadheading some daylillies. :)

February 15, 2012 | Unregistered CommenterConnie

what makes me so inexplicably happy? my baby boy flashing his dimples. he has singlehandedly brought so much joy into my world and my family's world. i don't think i actually knew this kind of joy before i met him.

my sister was killed, in front of her apt building in brooklyn, she was crossing the street and some a-hole was backing up a one way street. i'm sure she looked before she crossed, just not that way - why would you? it's a one way street! gah. the hole is huge. i miss her so. i feel it in my bones.

and now i look at my mother, being a mother myself just 11 mos into the gig and i cannot physically imagine how she gets out of bed each day and tackles life missing her so. i look at my son and swallow big gulps of air and think please god no, don't ever let anything happen to my baby. but i also realize now, all the worry in the world does not stop it from spinning.

so i'm sorry you are in the season of depression. but you will find you way out i hope. look at those beautiful babies you've made and just imagine all the good they will do in this world. when i find myself overwhelmed with grief and sadness i just think - this boy of mine, he's going to change the world and he already has by just being here - the world, my world is happier more joyful place...

February 15, 2012 | Unregistered Commenterjess

The way my newborn smiles at me in the morning.

I also love to look over my shoulder during my drive into work in the mornings and check out the sunrise shining on the water, shining through the clouds. Then in amazement, I think how beautiful it is and say "Good Morning" to God.

February 15, 2012 | Unregistered CommenterKel

"Sadly Beautiful" by The Replacements has been stuck in my head since reading this post. Thank you. (I mean it, I love that song)

February 15, 2012 | Unregistered CommenterBloomer

This is the best piece of writing you've ever done, in my opinion. (I'm a writer & editor too, so said opinion is not entirely worthless.) And for whatever else it's worth I relate completely down to the dead deer and the almost unspeakable sadness seeing them on the road brings me. I will say that having lost a parent last year at the age of 38 and going through the truly unspeakable grief one does (still, always, going through that, I expect) I have come to a greater faith that there is much much more to all this than it may sometimes seem. And that faith tempers the pain a bit, it does.

Not for nothing on a more practical note, depression blows and finding the right medication can be life-changing. It was for me. It didn't make me a worse writer as I feared nor did it cut me off from the beauty & the pain, it just made the edges a little less sharp, the bottom a little less deep. Again, I thought this was beautiful, Monica.

February 15, 2012 | Unregistered CommenterE.

Another meaningful read, you have such a talent.

Just being a part of this planet gets me high!

February 15, 2012 | Unregistered CommenterUtah L

This is so perfectly written. I think MANY of us feel this way - A LOT. I have weeks where I'll feel like this, and weeks where I don't. It comes and goes. I feel like a dick, because the thing I feel most anxiety like this about is my beloved pets. I feel like a dick because there are people with MUCH BIGGER PROBLEMS than simply the passing of a pet - a normal life milestone for most of us. But I don't have children, I have these little fuzzy creatures that rely on me for their life's well being and joy, which brings me such fulfillment and happiness. And I know that I'll outlive them, and knowing that, I know that one day will be that day when I find out their little lives are over, and I PANIC CONSTANTLY about that day. It's so stupid... because it WILL be okay, and because I'm also totally ruining the time I DO have left with them with anxiety instead of joy. I try all the time to remember that, and simply ENJOY them. I hope that practice makes perfect, and eventually it'll be easier to stop worrying and simply enjoy.

But that's the crux of it. Health stuff is scary. Anyone - person or animal - can get sick and die at any time. I'm a master of the "what if" and I make myself crazy. Why do we do this to ourselves??

Things that make me happy:
The quiet of daytime snowstorms
Sunshine. It's so healing!
The crunch of raw earth underfoot... like when on a hiking trail
Watching people look at something that makes them happy. Sounds weird... but try it. :)

February 15, 2012 | Unregistered CommenterJenny

Really beautiful post, Monica.

Seemingly mundane things that make me happy lately?

My almost-as-tall-as-me eleven year old still trying to fit all of herself, colt-legs and all, onto my lap so that we can snuggle.

Listening to her sing in the shower.

The very faint freckles across the bridge of her nose. The way she tenderly kissed my ear last night when I told her I had an ear-ache. (I could go on and on; because of stories like Katie's, I just want to savor every moment with my only child.)

The contented sigh of our dogs at bed time.

A huge (hundreds and hundreds) flock of robins landing in every tree in our yard on Saturday; they seemed to happy to be "home".

February 15, 2012 | Unregistered Commenterkate

Waking my almost-three-year-old twins: their sweet morning baby smell, sleepiness in the air, to see them snuggled like little kittens in their beds. And how they say "mama" when I bend down to rub their soft bunny-like bellies to wake them up. :)

February 15, 2012 | Unregistered CommenterLida

Beautiful. It captures how I too have been feeling of late. I found myself weeping just a few hours ago. A mother and her 4 year old daughter were found dead in there home in the city where I live. Details are unclear. They are strangers to me but she is a few years older than I and I have a 15 month old daughter. I gulped back tears when I saw a dead squirrel on my street last week too. Fragility and so much Suffering.
A memorable moment of happiness yesterday: A grey, dreary winter day walking with my daughter in her stroller. A huge "murder"/flock of crows descended on some trees. We stopped and "cawed" together and shared in the awe of the birds - soaring above us and sitting in the trees by the hundreds - coming from all directions. "Wow!" my daughter whispered and I sat with her - watching the beauty of the crows and the look of amazement on her beautiful little face.

February 15, 2012 | Unregistered CommenterSandy

I feel this exact same way. Thanks for puting into words what I feel on a regular basis.

These days, I'm finding beauty in those quick bursts of warm, golden sunlight that you rarely see in February.

February 15, 2012 | Unregistered Commenterkate

I lived there in that place you're describing (so well!) for three interminable years. Lifetimes upon lifetimes, a lifetime ago now, but I still find myself a tourist there from time to time. I might be too meta for my own good, but honestly what I find myself appreciating when I'm skirting depression now is already having been there and escaped so that I really KNOW now that there's a way out, that exit door at the back of my mind that I can muddle to with some work.

Lately I'm also appreciating simply being able to act, to BE in the world. I lost a good friend several months ago, tragically young, the week before her first daughter's first birthday. I swear to you that in ways I never anticipated, I now appreciate just being here, having a body I can move through space to do things and experience things with. The gift of tragedy is that it inoculates us against superficiality.

It is gratifying to see a kindred spirit, who I might never meet, out there struggling similarly with the mess of life.

February 15, 2012 | Unregistered Commenteramy

Everything you see has its roots in the unseen world.
The forms may change, yet the essence remains the same.
Every wonderful sight will vanish, every sweet word will fade,
But do not be disheartened,
The source they come from is eternal, growing,
Branching out, giving new life and new joy.
Why do you weep?
The source is within you
And this whole world is springing up from it.

February 15, 2012 | Unregistered CommenterE.

I think of something horrible happening to my daughter on a daily basis. I hate it. And sometimes I feel horrible for even bringing her here only to be faced with the uphill battle that is life. And I hate how vunerable I feel because I love her so much.
So I focus on how much she loves her daddy, blankie and how she loves the dog, and just how loving she is towards everyone in general. It is an amazing feeling to know that she loves so much because she is so loved. God-does that even make sense?!

February 15, 2012 | Unregistered CommenterTeresa

I am not in that state right now but it doesn't take much to put me there. Sometimes I worry a lot about something happening to my husband, or my kids or grandsons. I fight depression all the time and I can get caught up in it for a while . . . but it also doesn't take too much to make me feel happy, like hearing my grandson's voices; listening to them laugh, or talking to my kids. Or when my husband paints something beautiful, or when he makes up crazy songs and sings them so loud I'm sure the neighbors can hear him but he doesn't care. Sometimes I have to be distracted from obsessive/negative thinking. Almost anything funny or thought provoking (in a positive way) works. My husband tells me all the time that you have to just keep pushing the negative away, and it sucks but he's right.

I have deleted this three times because I don't know if you want this kind of advice, but another thing that has really helped my depression is taking SAM-e, B complex and folic acid. It evens out my moods and keeps the anxiety at a manageable level. But there are things you have to know before taking it (that I had to figure out the hard way) so if you're interested let me know and I'll give you the details.

February 15, 2012 | Unregistered CommenterElizabeth B

i love that your mom calls herself "mama" in her replies. My most heart wrenching happiness comes from hearing my 8 year old call "mama" for me. I never thought I would be a mom, was told all my life i couldnt have kids. Had her at 41. Married a wonderful amazing dad and husband (not in that order). I found true love with her that opened the door in my heart to heal so much of the past. I hope your heart is better and better every day.

February 15, 2012 | Unregistered CommenterLecia B

Thank you for this post, monica. I so relate to your words about fear. How is it that I feel such love for my baby girl and my husband and equally fear that something will happen to them. Not all of the time but....I remember distinctly the first instance of this was last March when there was that earthquake in Japan and we were vacationing in Hawaii. We woke up to the news and understood the strange sirens we had heard the night before in our slumber. My husband took my daughter (then 10 months old) out for a morning drive so that I could sleep in and then didn't return for 4 hours. 4 hours of agony as I watched the local news about the tsunami that hit parts of Hawaii and my mind took over and all I could think of was what it would feel like to lose them to this awful tragedy. My husband didn't have the cellphone with him and when he tried to call the condo office, no one answered the phones...I finally called 911 and they sent a wonderful officer over to talk to me. And then my husband showed up with our little Mahalia and I crumpled to the floor in a tearful heap..with relief, with embarrassment and with love for them. They were stuck at a road block and couldn't get back and my daughter was fine, she had eaten food and slept and trusted her daddy to look after her. Sigh.
A mundane thing that gives me daughter walking around with a long piece of toilet paper singing her song and moving it up and down with such joy.

February 15, 2012 | Unregistered Commenterstella

E., thank you for the Rumi!

February 16, 2012 | Unregistered CommenterKaren

Oh, I remember this feeling so well from the first few weeks of my son's life. I lost my Dad in 2006 and I think that experience also helped harden me, but not in a bad way. Many would run screaming from love and the pain it brings after loss, but instead I pulled it closer to me, because if the horrible is going to happen then I want to soak up as much as the happy for as long as I can.
Groundlessness, it is scary and beautiful all at once.

February 16, 2012 | Unregistered CommenterAdrienne

Beautiful post. I identify so well. I have such a happy life right now with an amazing husband and a beautiful 8 month old daughter. And every day, I fear that this life will be broken by some tragedy. Having lost a parent at a young age, I understand how the world can crumble beneath you in an instant. And now, when things are so good, it is hard to appreciate it because I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. One way I comfort myself is by having contingency plans. I know how dark this sounds, but I can tell you exactly what I would do, step by step, if my house caught fire, if I lost my husband, etc. Having these little plans makes me feel like I have some modicum of control, even though I obviously don't.

At any rate, to answer your question, feeding my daughter is an every day task that brings me unadulterated joy. No matter how bad the day has been, how many times clients yelled at me during the work day, how exhausted I am, how much there is left to do at the end of the day, when I sit in the rocking chair and hold my little girl while she drinks her bottle, it all melts away. That 5 minute chunk of time with her makes all other frustrations disappear. If only I could spend my whole day cradling her, watching that sweet face look up at me.

February 16, 2012 | Unregistered CommentereRose

The pitter-patter of rain. The smell of dinner cooking. Snowflakes. Smell of fresh paint. A random covnersation with a stranger. A warm bed.

February 16, 2012 | Unregistered CommenterCaitlin

This is the best thing you have written so far...

February 16, 2012 | Unregistered CommenterDaycare Lady

The cause of and solution to this feeling is just holding my baby. When I go to soothe her at night and she's nestled back against my body, I'm overcome by the fact that it is fleeting, that I can't protect her. But eventually I come back to myself and rub my cheek against hers and breathe in her hair and appreciate that it is here, now. It is so hard.

February 17, 2012 | Unregistered CommenterHollie

Art:Beautiful music, paintings, dance, writing--beautiful things made by seemingly ordinary people who feel compelled, by passion, to step of the crazy train and take the time to make something beautiful for those of us who are too restless to sit still, to admire. This essay, for instance. It's art too.

February 18, 2012 | Unregistered Commenterbetsy

I can relate. It can be hard to appreciate beauty and the small things when it seems like we are surrounded by tragedies of a magnitude we can't imagine and we live is such mean-spirited and politically/religiously-polarized times where the economic realities are not tipped in most of our favors. This is without adding into the mix personal tragedy, regret and disappointment. Plus, I don't know about where you are, but February is truly the longest month. Nothing like cold, damp and gloomy to cheer one up. I enjoy a glass of fresh-squeezed OJ and whole pink Florida grapefruit (taste like sunshine), a hot, spicy Chai, and as many snuggles as possible with my pooch who never fails to make me happy. Oh, and if I can muster it, I find exercise and some homemade soup don't hurt either.

February 18, 2012 | Unregistered CommenterSaffoula

This is beautiful. And I know the panic you're talking about. How painful it is, the beauty and the tragedy, the fragility of everything and everyone we love. I'm scared every single day of losing my husband, my three little girls, our parents, my brother. Especially my daughters, of course. The thought haunts me until I can barely breathe. When it comes I have to move. I have to force myself to think of other, little, mundane things. What I'm going to make for dinner. When does the cleaning lady come? Where is that toy that one of the girls was looking for earlier? Anything, to distract me until it recedes.

As for mundane things that make me ridiculously happy, there are lots. But I think my favorite one right now is the way my toddler reacts when I lie down with her before bed and nurse her. She pulls at the neck of my shirt, nods her head and raises her eyebrows, says, "Yeah?" And when I lie down, say "Yeah, ok," she giggles, squirms around with delight, repeats it, "Yeah, yeah, yeah." And I love that it's so simple to make her so happy. Looking at that little face, such joy, I think I'll never wean her.

February 20, 2012 | Unregistered CommenterGwen

sometimes I think we all need an autopilot. Not while driving but in general...Sometimes life is enough without adding a whole lot of thought on feelings and questions. Just taking it as it comes and rolling through without a plan but simply trusting that it is as it ought to be, Noting missing, nothing broken. take a shower and enjoy some peace is what I do. Watch it happen? Well that;s where I am now. Being satisfied with not knowing my next move. I hope the best for you always.

December 2, 2013 | Unregistered Commentergina

I stood there gazing, while it waved gently in the afternoon breeze. A single pine needle had become snagged on the edge of a tiny tear in the screen of my bathroom window. Had it not been moving I would have missed it. Right there, in that moment, as my attention settled fully on this small insignificant thing swaying gently, I realized that all of my striving to complete one task after another required all of me, while this little piece of natural beauty required nothing, not even appreciation, and yet, in noticing, I am offered a deeper glimpse into what God probably desires for all of His children. To rest. To simply be and to respond to the wind of His Spirit, in grace and peace. Pray. Wait. Rest. See.

November 9, 2014 | Unregistered CommenterGina

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