Silver Thread and the River

What a year…..

I have found that I use the year in holidays as markers in my life. The progress or regression, lessons and losses. What I have accomplished, planned or not. Events never unfold without a twist of lime. Sometimes that slice is what is needed to enhance the over all experience; other times it drops you to the floor in a mighty wallop. I have had both this year and the lessons of strength has been the reoccurring theme. I really hate the phrase “you are only given what you can handle”. I call bullshit on this. Why? Because it does nothing for the grieving heart, the body of pain and the lost soul. I feel it only shames us into the façade of strength. Real strength comes from acknowledging the event that stunned us, letting it settle into our being and then finding what your new normal is.

 These are a state of affairs that we will experience in our life-all of us. It is part of our life lessons. We each have a set of them that shape us, influence our decisions and at times overcome us.

Sometimes we are given events that we can’t handle. We shut down. Our brain freezes at a particular place and we can’t move past it. We tread water, barely keeping our head up. As we flounder, forgetting to breath we become so tired that we really just want to go under. At this point we either sink or swim. (I have always been a strong swimmer- I learned when I was young-another life lesson) and then automatic starts. Moving thru the motions of survival. Progressing thru the strong current and coming out the other side is never a betrayal to our lost love(s), it is survival. Our dear hearts want us to swim. The first deep breath as you break the surface,  fills your lungs and the light is warm on your face. Stepping on the banks of the river, feeling the might of endurance, the muscle that developed from being tossed into the waterway.

As the new year begins, we can’t help but to look back on the year that was, how far we have come and what is still holding us back.  Much of these circumstances are laced with pain-physical, emotional and for some, spiritual. They have a tendency to intertwine and morph in to one beast. I know that I have dealt with each of these on levels that I did not realize existed in my being. My spiritual house and foundation is strong and helps me move thru my river. I was thankful for this as my year unfolded and I was tested many times over.

 

The loss of a long time friend and co-worker (20+years) at the beginning of 2013 sent waves of disbelief that still has a rippling effect on many of us. I think of her sons daily and the struggles they have endured. My heart hurts for them as they make this journey together as brothers and separately as men.

My personal pain from physical injuries sustained that brought me to the decision of surgery. I do not regret that decision, but the place that I landed was and is a passage to the next crossroad. The loss of my sister Melissa, her husband and 2 daughters, 2 weeks after my hip replacement still seems like a movie I watched on the Lifetime channel. She and I were 22 month apart in age and 1 year apart in school. I do not remember life before her. Growing up, we experience most life events together-either as friends or fighting, as sisters do. She was my memory and I was hers. As adults, we chose different paths. Hers as a Christian, mine as a Pagan. We had to find a place of acceptance for each other. When I went to her home in Texas for the funeral, I was overwhelmed with the goodness of the people of the community, her Christian community. They welcomed me and my other siblings and extended family. They took us in, comforted us, fed us and gave us a place to rest. They gave us soul care that was desperately needed. The funeral was overwhelming. The eulogy and heartfelt words comforted but at times I struggled with the Christian God that was not my own. I found myself holding hands with my remaining sisters during prayer. I quietly slipped in to the “Silver Thread” meditation that my dear mentor, friend and teacher of the Appalachian ways, Byron Ballard taught me. I saw the thread unwind and weave it’s way to my sisters, then to my brother, mother, husband, daughter, nieces, nephews, new friends and neighbors. I let it slink around until we all were sewn together. I was able to find a bit of peace that day with the meditation and knew that I would again swim to the river bank.

I remembered one community member related how Melissa was the first to remind others that you don’t know what someone else’s story is and what brought them to this time and place.

 This is how she lived her life. I carry this with me each day as I move forward.

 

2013 had it’s share of good days.

 

The first day walking with out my cane, being able to dance and sway my hip ever so slightly to blues music, camping trips and kayaking with my husband, Circle time with my soul sisters who lift me up on high and being able to walk my dogs on the wooded trail behind my house.

 

These are the things that sustain me and make me swim harder.