I’m keeping God and the angels very busy with all the prayers I’m sending up these days.
I’m praying for my stepmother Dawn, who has surgery for colon cancer next week.
I’m praying for my sweet friend Anita, whose body went into toxic shock last night.
I’m praying for my Aunt Laura, who just had surgery for breast cancer.
I’m praying for my daughter in law Aya and grandson Ayumu to come home.
And in the middle of all this grief and darkness, I spoke to my mother for the first time in ten years. It was a peaceful conversation - an attempt to heal.
It was nothing short of a small miracle.
Once again, I find miracles in the middle of mayhem, and wonder if they could occur any other way.
It’s not as though Moses was hanging out with some friends one day, drinking wine, and said, “Hey you guys, wanna see a cool party trick?” - then parted the Red Sea. It’s always at the darkest moments that miracles occur.
What I am trying to learn now is not to fear the dark moments, and instead, to trust.
To trust that there will be good somewhere within.
To trust that some how, some way, all of the pain will be healed.
To trust in goodness, and love.
These simple things I know - every bloom that falls off the vine will return again when the season is right, and the sun will rise every morning now matter how pervasive the darkness.
This is the hope that sustains me.