Tuesday, April 30, 2013
I've been learning a hard lesson in patience lately. When things go wrong, sometimes you can't fight for them without making them worse, so we wait instead. The thing I've been learning about this waiting game is that sometimes it takes mores strength to be patient and hold back than to fight it. Fighting is an action. It's proactive and worthy and makes us feel dignified and strong. But waiting- waiting is draining. It's exhausting and relentless. It's waves upon waves of thoughts you'd rather not be dwelling on. It's a constant reminder of what could be, what should have been. With fighting, it's your determination that shines through the brightest. With waiting, it's your faith. It's quiet. It's believing, and hoping, and reminding yourself day in a day out there's a reason for this silence. Mostly, it's knowing that better things are on their way. Whether it be soon or way down the road. A friend told me the other day- it's okay to be upset. And I had never thought of it like that. But putting it into my own perspective, I in fact, am upset. I'm upset over time lost and I'm upset that I care so much and I'm upset that I have memories all around my room and in every corner of my mind of what it all used to be. It is terribly upsetting actually. Regardless, the biggest part of this patience lesson that's been slapping me across the face everyday is that there's something really special about the things worth waiting for. And when they're worth it, you know. You know because giving up was never an option, it never even crossed your mind to throw in the towel, to call it a day, to throw up your hands and say "I'm done", even though so many situations have warranted it. I think there's something really special about that.
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
When I was nine years old I had an Eeyore stuffed animal that I still carried around by the neck everywhere I went. I had my own imaginary world right in my own backyard. I believed in everything and trusted everyone. My mom was my biggest role model and my dad was my superhero. I could fly in his arms, and when my feet hit the ground he made me believe I was the fastest girl in the world. He was my biggest fan, and my rock. No matter how many terrible scrapes I drummed up, there wasn't one a hug and a kiss from my dad couldn't heal. He taught me how to be invincible and he taught me about life and love and he tackled me with kisses and constrained me with monster hugs and tickled my tiny rib cage until tears ran down my smiling cheeks. He's been there. He's seen it all.
I'm really beginning to see lately how terrible things tend to target undeserving people. When I was nine years old, my biggest concern was what was for dinner that night. It never crossed my mind even to this day, to someday come home to a dinner table where my dad wasn't in attendance. Or to wake up on a winter Sunday to an empty fireplace.
The truth of the matter is, that dad had so much more to teach that little girl. He had so much more to see and experience. I'm usually pretty good at assuming the perspectives, thoughts, and feelings of others, but every time I try to imagine life without my dad for the past eleven years, my brain quickly snaps away from even the thought of it. And perhaps the worst part of it all is as I have gotten to know this little girl more and more I'm coming to realize she's one of the sweetest, most kindhearted little persons I've ever met. She deserved none of this. And maybe that's why it tares me up so much. Maybe that is why I feel so strongly for this tough little girl that has just recently entered and changed my outlook on life completely.
Things can change in an instant. Life doesn't always play by the rules. Try as we might to keep everything strung together in perfect harmony, our lives fall apart sometimes. It gets too dark to know which way is up or down or left or right and we lose perspective and faith and maybe even ourselves.But when all is dark, even the dimmest light can be seen. Even the slightest murmur of that harmony can be heard from afar and that is what we must focus on. That little slice of our life existing in perfect harmony.
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