I miss him like a circle

Today is my annual so-low-that-down-is-up day–I blog about it every year (here in  20102011, 20122013, 2014). 

The day when we have the least amount of light, and the most amount of darkness.  

The day that launches a time when the days will only have more light than the day before. More light is coming…just a little bit more each day, but it’s going in the right direction. 

It’s a day of strange hope for me.

It can’t get less light.  It can’t get shorter.  There is only one way to the pattern of these days…Longer days, more light…UP.  Only up.  

We might be at the bottom for short days, which is tough…but tomorrow will be a little bit brighter.

I saw this picture on my friend Nik’s timeline a few weeks ago and asked him to send it to me for today’s blog.  It took my breath away.  It was beautiful.  The colouring is exquisite.  I love the colors and the depth:

Exquisite picture of frost on window in the bathroom

Isn’t it lovely?

What makes this such a powerful picture for me was that it is not a beautiful painting or work of art that someone painstakingly put hours of work into.

This is a snap of Nik’s bathroom window in the morning. He posted it on Facebook and it got a lot of likes as people admired the lighting, the intricateness of the patterns, and the way the patterns and light play off each other.

It’s frost because of insulation/condensation issues in the most private room of the house.  The room that smells the most, and holds the most private functions. 

This picture is a sign of a winter moisture problem.  This picture is simply beautiful.

And yet, it was the most beautiful thing I saw that morning. I loved the picture.

But he didn’t love the reason it was there. But he loved the beauty of it so much he snapped the pic.

Darkness and light, challenges and beauty, kindness in the midst of horror…the light in the darkness shines bright.

The darkness cannot over come the light. The ugliness cannot eliminate the beauty.

Sometimes the beauty arises out because of the darkness.

I’ve had a few conversations with a friend of mine lately.  Her husband just left.  Fairly suddenly and without any chance to talk or figure things out. Their family is ripped apart, and she is struggling to face the reality of all of life, never mind just this Christmas, alone.

She has three children…She messaged me about a brief conversation she had with her 8 year old, Tanner.

“On a scale of square to circle, how much do you
miss dad?” 

I asked what he meant by that. 

“Well, in a square,
it’s just 1,2,3,4 [his fingers drawing in the air] and it’s done. But in a
circle, it just goes around and around and around and doesn’t stop. 

I miss him
like a circle Mom.”

I read this on my phone while I was standing in line buying a few things at the busy Dollar Store…crazy full of customers, lotsa jostling and action. Lost. it. –I started to cry. Don’t know if they thought I was a little odd. That’s ok.

Sometimes, I just feel so understood by words that it takes my breath away.  

The insight of Tanner was remarkable and I felt like he understood grief, that he understood my grief so poignantly. I cried because all of a sudden I had language to better wrap around some experiences in my life.  I miss the important people in my life like a circle. Tanner spoke a truth that was hard and sad and truer than I could feel, except if I wept.

I cried because there is one more family of children that weeps for a man who cared and loved them and isn’t around anymore.

I cried because there is so much hurt, and so very many people hurt in circles…around and around.  

Square hurting happens when your team loses, or you don’t get what you hoped for for Christmas.  But almost everybody has some circle hurt in their lives.

I cried because this 8 year old named Tanner could tell his mother so very clearly that he hurts like a circle. Because he gave her the chance to comfort him, and he gave her language and permission to hurt like a circle too.  They could be together in their sadness for the man who is no longer there.

I cried because when people talk to each other about their loneliness and sadness in ways that invite support and love, like Tanner and his mom, it makes the darkness a little bit brighter.  The ugly is still ugly, but the spark of beauty in it cannot be extinguished. 

They can have each other as they loop through the waves of sadness, and they will be the better for it.

Many are struggling with the darkness in their life right now…may you let people who know and care for you of your circle grief, circle loneliness, and circle struggle.  Be honest and open…vulnerable.  

"On a scale of square to circle, how much do you miss Dad?" I asked what he meant by that. ""Well, in a square, it
And give each other care in the sadness.

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