i wake this morning with the taste of dread thick in my mouth. swallow hard. lay still. eyes close fast and heart opens slow. "Lord, it is monday and this week brings too much and i am not nearly enough." small shift right and my body reminds me of the time. i am in need of, at the very least, advil. but a few minutes more i lay. just still and quiet. alone in my thoughts. my prayer continues soft and desperate. pleading for strength in this week stretched with heavy. and as i lay hushed and listen close i can't miss the voice - not audible, but clear. ever so clear: "look for the blessings, jody. just look." it is sort of a "if you build it, they will come," kind of moment. i believed in that movie. i certainly believe more in this small, still voice. i have heard. i believe in it more today with my stitches of cancer than ever before. cancer brought the storm. loud and devastating. unexpected. but still... there is the low, sure hum in the midst. calm. constant. and it whispers blessing. and i believe. and i get up and know today i will find it.
because each day finds it, if we dare to look. somedays require looking harder and longer and closer. somedays it falls at our feet. pure gift. i get that. how many cold mornings have i held hot coffee watching the pink and orange of new day wash woods out back. blessing. how many evenings have i rubbed the tummies and heads of sleepy-eyed babies and heard breathing slow, then steady. blessing. how many meals have been prepared in my kitchen with plenty. blessing. how many nights have we all snuggled down deep and slept uninterrupted in seemless peace. blessing. how many days has the sun been hot and the laughter been loud and the children been spent. blessing. it follows us everywhere. even in our illness and hunger and cold and pain and poverty and loneliness and depression and failure. for these are the days and the times which require true looking. the dare to look closer. deeper.
this day, as in all days, i have choice. i can choose a cloak of heavy or a garment of praise. i dress carefully. and i walk down into my morning. light. the taste of dread replaced with words for small girl following mama into her kitchen. babe of my heart. barefoot in pink pajamas. she comes to me ready for waffle and fruit and her cartoons. she knows i still cannot pick her up. she is as light as a feather, but too heavy on this day. and so we sit together on wooden floor in our still sleeping house and begin our day down low. sunlight streaming in through smudged window and the fine coat of our family dirt catches my eye. and though i sigh and think first of broom and dust pan, i am quickly reminded, yes, blessing. because i have chosen a garment of praise. i will dare to look. and i will seek to find.
it will be that kind of day.
and then later in day, after a much needed bath, i find her wrapped up in blue towel. still and quiet and calm. and i run for the camera. blessing.