Friday, December 21, 2012

When There Are No Words

When there are no words for comfort, we cry.  We hug.  We question why.  We must react with love.

For seven days, our hearts have mourned and grieved for our families in Connecticut.  Heart-break is quickly overwhelmed by anger and rage that something so egregious could happen in a sweet little town, in our sweet little country.

There are many debates that are coming to light as a result of this tragedy: gun control, mental illness, safety guidelines, community investments, etc.

But the purpose of my blog has never been to discuss politics or ignite debates.  This is a place where I come for healing and guidance and support.  The words and comments that people leave for me have the ability to change my minutes, my days and sometimes my perspective.  Unfortunately, this tragedy has provided me with the opportunity to sit back and examine what my priorities are.

I spent last week voicing frustrations over side effects and pain.  I am unhappy with my lack of physical ability. I was nervous about having another surgery and all of the things I cannot do while I heal.  But what do I have?  I have insurance that covers the costs of physical therapy.  I have two legs that can take me on walks and even when I am swollen and uncomfortable, I have a way to enjoy the fresh winter air.  And I always have my amazing family to help me through these tough weeks - to bring Evan to me, to make sure he is cared for, to make sure dinners are on the table, homework is completed and beds are made.  It's amazing that I have the ability to take these things for granted, when I have been in a situation that has caused me to reevaluate what's important.

So, this week, I unplugged.  When I was done with work, I put away my Blackberry and my iPhone and my MacBook.  I made dinner for my family.  While I gave Evan his nightly bath, I sat and sang to him.  I dressed him in his jammies and we read books as a family.  Brian and I snuggled while we caught up on some of our favorite TV shows. I gave more kisses and hugs and "I love you's".

These activities didn't change the heaviness I have in my heart for the grieving families that aren't celebrating Christmasses the way they were planning.  They won't undo any of the pain or take away any of the tears.  But I will make it a part of my daily prayers and focus to love MORE.  Love BETTER.  Love STONGER and FIERCER and HARDER.  At the end of the day, when there are no words, all we can do is return grief and anger and pain with LOVE.

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