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If you’ve known me very long, you know how special purple, rainbows, and butterflies are to me. Purple was our Ellie’s color, and on the day we buried her, her sister’s butterflies hatched way earlier than expected under the most perfect full rainbow painted across the gray July sky. Every time we see these things now, they are like a sweet hug from our girl, reminding us of her footprint on our lives.
As we celebrated her 8th birthday a few days ago, the mundane parts of a winter day were punctuated amazingly by the sweetest gifts, seeming to be perfectly placed just for us.
As I lay watching a movie with my loves, we all turned to grin at each other knowingly as a conversation about rainbows erupted in the middle of a suspenseful plot. My husband turned to me. “How many movies do you suppose they start talking about rainbows in,” he grinned. It was true. Specific, beautiful reminders of Ellianna Grace were purposely left in plain view for us on the anniversary of her birth. The others I was able to capture, to look back and remind myself of the goodness.
Purple and rainbow, in a dress fit for a princess!
A photo that popped up in my Instagram feed from Pitter Patter Art.
Life is sweet indeed.
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I had a pretty big and difficult surgery last week, and have been plodding through a rather arduous recovery in the days following. I’ve not hardly been in the public eye since then, other than trips between hospital and home, and a few brief marathon efforts to participate in family activities. I’ve made attempts to clean up into pretty sundresses and lip gloss in lieu of the pajamas and heaps of pillows that have filled my recent days, but clearly I’m still sticking out like a wounded chicken. Or something.
Everywhere we have been, people have offered whatever they could to make things easier for me. They have cleared elevators for me; I believe I was crunched over in my wheelchair, hugging a pillow for dear life with tears streaming down my face when I heard a lady say, “you two go ahead, we’ve all been there.” People have called their children to move out of the way, given up seats, gifted anonymous flowers, held doors, and waited painstaking moments for me to take whatever time I needed.
This morning we waited at the end of the block near our house for our oldest daughter to march by in the holiday parade. Everyone was melting. The heat combined with the sickening humidity was almost enough to suck all the fun out of it. There I was in a crowd of sweltering people, and this tiny elderly woman came shuffling up to me and thrust a frosty red cup of ice water into my hand that she had walked back home to get just for me. I was almost speechless. It was such a selfless act, and I truly felt undeserving, especially considering all the miserably hot people around me. I thanked her profusely, and we all took turns sipping the cold goodness in the beating sun.
So many random people saw my hurting and my weakness this week, and they were quick and generous to act. It got me thinking though… what about the people whose hurting isn’t so visible? What about the ones who are more broken on the inside than out, and could also use a gentle smile or a beautiful flower, or just to know that they are seen and cared for? I guarantee they are all around us, and they may be trying to hide it just like me, but we shouldn’t have to look far to see another soul thirsty for a refreshing dose of encouragement, or an extra helping hand. I want to remember to look for ways to be kind, whether I can see that a person needs it or not. Chances are, they do.
More about my surgery misadventures later; for now let’s finish off this good long weekend with a renewed passion to be the hope this hurting world so desperately needs. I’d love to hear ways you are finding to spread kindness around you!
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It feels like this week just chewed us up and spit us right out. It’s easy to forget to count the beautiful things when it feels like you’re fighting a cold dark riptide, but it’s the snapshot moments of beautiful life-gifts that help us pick ourselves back up, dust off, and try again.
Here’s to the strangers gifting homemade ice cream cake, the beauty in the humming of the clumsy bumblebees, and the quiet peace of holding a sleepy, feverish hand. The things that tug our heartstrings right out and make us want to stand taller, fight braver, do better. Here’s to the weekend of snuggling close with our loves, refilling our heart-tanks, and showing up ready for a new week without truly knowing how we are gonna make it.
This was such a rotten week you guys. I would recount it for you, but seriously I spent so much of it face down I’m not even sure which days were which.
Mostly what I want to share with you about this week though is today. Today was a day of scrolling through the camera reel and remembering, or maybe just really seeing for the first time the big and beautiful and maybe even amazing things that had everything to do with survival, whether I knew it at the time or not.
There was ugly. There were struggles and new limits and fears and just brokenness, but won’t you look with me? See the undeserved beautiful that cast a beautiful afterglow through the storms.
There were tender snuggles.
There were endless warm blankets and hard day socks. Never forget a pair of hard day socks.
There was HILARITY (slash panic) when my children somehow just haphazardly grabbed a mole and brought it into my bedroom to show me. A MOLE people!!
There was awe at the perfectly inspiring timing at which my sweet mama shared her sky with me from several states away.
There was giggling and excitement as the kids set up our tent in the backyard for an end of summer camp out, which I could see in plain view from the giant bay window at the foot of my bed.
There were breathtaking flowers along the walkway to the hospital.
I wasn’t stalling, there were like, a LOT of them!
There was cheering as my soon-to-be-school-goer beat me at his new letter sounds game.
There was the sweetest little pregnant mama houseguest who seems to think I’m the bestest snuggler of all….
And after… I lost count how many… days of not leaving home for anything other than the doctor, after a few dry runs and a lot of help from my wingman this morning, I busted on out with my two big boys for this…
I don’t quite remember how I got back into the house, but I did in a sore, exhausted, pale-ish, and wonderfully happy and satisfied heap, where I intend to stay well into the snuggles of the evening. Who knows, maybe we will find another adventure or two to cram in before sundown. 😉
Look back through your own week; did you miss any hidden gifts that might have been the very things that carried you to the weekend?
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