Today I knew that it was time to write again. I heard myself say, "Just put something down. Start. Just begin."
So here I am ....back again. The old me but the new me. The me that feels like a piece of corn that has had its husk stripped/ripped off. Shucked corn---with silky fibers still stuck in the kernels---all messy. I think some people say things like, "She's a hot mess. Do hot messes grieve and fall to their knees in the darkest part of the night? How does loss carve such a deep trench in our hearts?
I used to think I was a pretty good mom. Now I am not so sure. My compass for leading Taylor is all whacked out. The true north magnet is going hay-wire. Wavering off course. And I feel guilty about it. That's irrational---but yes, guilty.
Where is the promise? Remind me about the promise? It is hard to be so vulnerable. I liked having my mask--my husk. It was safer that way.
Way down deep in my tiny little cells lives hope. Who in the heck knows how hope got planted inside of me---but it did and IS. I just need hope's flame to stay lit.
I pray for a kind wind to breathe gently into the lungs of our hope.
And for Taylor to find his words again.
Wind and words.
Those are my healing prayers.