Despite the calendar month and the mercury rising, my recent past has felt much like a nuclear winter. After an incredible impact, I lie quiet and still among the fallout that surrounds me. I see but I do not digest, life moves on but I have stepped off the merry go round, a bystander to my own life.
But I want to ride.
As frightening as these last few months have been I gain nothing by watching the world go by. As Marianne Williamson once spoke,” Your playing small doesn’t serve the world. There is nothing enlightening about shrinking so that others around you will feel better, you are a child of God and you were meant to manifest His glory.”
So I am starting.
If I want a change I have to be that change. The law of averages is not in my favor should I choose to stay motionless so onward I move one tiny, almost unperceivable, step at a time. But it’s movement and it’s mine.
Hence the summer within.
I am beginning to see the blooms beyond the thorns and the grass amidst the weeds, asking God to keep me grateful for all of my blessings. It can be extremely trying to stay cognizant of thanks when enduring physical pain and I have found strength and solace in both family and faith. Making every effort to not only look but see, I revel in every minuscule miracle before me, taking great comfort knowing that I will always be a child of God. He walks beside me through every trial and tribulation and akin to electricity flowing He courses through my veins propelling me to keep moving forward.
So I am in motion.
The great quandary I now face is how to keep my forward momentum when my faith wanes and my feet grow weary. Pain is an ominous adversary, capable of making even the most God fearing fall to their knees. I am no different. But thus far I have a 100 percent track record for getting back up and I keep that in mind on the days that try me.
As I struggle to find the lesson in all of this I am realizing that perhaps the lesson has already come and in inching forward I am learning to trust, learning to believe and learning to accept.
And so I am.