'there is only Mercy'

I don't look for big miracles. I don't expect burning bushes, or angels appearing in my room. When I think about a sign from God, I think about the little things. Those small gestures that let you know that you're not alone, that someone out there sees you and is listening to your pleas for help.

It's been a hard, long, lonely winter. I've spiraled deeper into an isolated existence, metaphorically hibernated within my own head. I've felt so cut off from the rest of the world, and unable to communicate with anyone outside my family and closest friends. Lately, I've been offering up some prayers to say 'look, God, I'm tired. I'm lonely. I wonder how much longer I can do this and not completely lose my mind. So, could you maybe throw me a bone here? I'm lost.' I'm a bit of an informal prayer. I don't do the thees and thous and thine will crap. I just speak from the heart and hope He's listening. 

It started with Charlotte's mom at preschool stopping me in the hall. Grabbing my arm, looking me in the eye 'How is your Dad doing? How are you doing?' I don't know this woman very well, she doesn't really know me, which almost made her reaching out more meaningful. I found my words tumbling out, like a floodgate opening as I told her about the latest scans, and that it's not really good, and she even let me talk about dying and didn't try to give me a pep talk. I walked out with Addie that day and thought 'well, that was one angel. Thanks, God.' 

Then it was the woman at the coffeehouse, who I've been running into for the last seven years, since we were both pregnant. We always do the idle chit chat thing, and I don't think I've mentioned Dad being sick to her, and it somehow came out today. She nodded her head 'My Dad died of prostate cancer two years ago.' We commiserated about the difficulties in caring for an ill parent, and how it makes people really uncomfortable when you talk about death and dying. I walked out into the sunshine and thought 'that's two. I don't feel quite so alone today.'

And then, it was Mom relating a phone conversation she had with a family friend who had been catching up on my blog and perhaps gave me the nicest compliment about my writing anyone has given, and then, in referring to this entry, said 'I was there with her on her bike. I was riding with her.' And I cried. Because none of us want to feel alone, ever. And I realized that no matter how isolated I may feel, there are those of you out there reading this that are with me in this journey. I'm not just sending words out into a void. Just like sending out my irreverent prayers, someone is always listening. 

'one day my kite will escape forever

and I will jump to catch the trailing string

wishes and wants will fall from my pocket

as I wave, full of peace'