Alive In My Boots

It's been months since my last post on Easter's Eve...awash in passion...and dedicated to my momma and dad.  Hours later, on Easter I got the call. Momma in the ER. Life and time stood still. I stopped dead in my tracks. Everything changed in that instant. Those who have been there know. I summoned all my courage. And grace. So did momma and dad and our family---instantly knit closer by this news. I showed up with and for it all, and for that, I am grateful. Life forever changed. Blogging stopped.

Silence.

Four months lived. Inwardly. Expectantly. Hopefully. Living here and there. Dancing with fear and peace. All of you who have walked in these shoes know. The shoes point in one direction and one direction only. Sometimes, I forgot that I had shoes. Sometimes I walked in momma's shoes to find my way back to compassion. Sometimes I put on my big girl boots and led. Sometimes I tucked my shoes under the bed and crawled in. This journey into the Mystery is not for the faint of heart. Up until now, I knew that my parents would die. Of course. But I didn't really believe it. Not with all my degrees, or evidence of other's parents passing. Nope---not my beloved momma and dad. My magical thinking swathed in waves of heartlovefantasy had us really living on forever, thank you very much. That was the ending I thought I preferred...up until now. Now I see that this hour is all that any of us have. The rest, complete fantasy. Unknown. Just as unknown as whether momma  (or you or me) will have the gift of the next hour. So in this hour---I choose to break the silence, and come clean.

True confession about my silence: Momma told me that she and my dad print out every blogpost I write and save them in a binder. Yes. Wow. This, too, stopped me dead in my tracks. The irony is not lost on me---the very one who wrote about showing up, risking, having impact, passionately leading a life worth living. To be this seen and known and loved and held and tenderly preserved by my parents makes me weep. This is how true love shows up. Printer, wrinkled hands, a 3-hole punch. A binder. Messy and vulnerable. The challenge and blessing of seeing, and being seen.

I vow to show up more fully---even if and especially because my momma and dad are watching.

So here it is: Dedication #2 to Momma and Dad. You are my sunshine. Both of you. Dad, as you wake up and say, "Just another day in paradise" as the sun rises over the lake streaming into your cabin. Momma, as you battle your cancer with grace and gritty courage, fighting with every cell of your tiny little body for your precious life... as you near the end of chemo...and glimpse the possibility of the light of your life rising over the lake once again. Here comes the sun!

Dead in my tracks was OK for a time. But now, I'm alive in my boots.