The Price of a Silver Lining

Years ago, I made the decision to change my mindset. I made a choice to be happy.  I made a choice to see the world as 'the glass half full.'  Though it took some practice, I mastered my new approach to life quite quickly. 

When I met my first husband, he called me 'Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm.'  He would often say, "Well aren't you a f@#$ing ray of sunshine" (please understand, he was a city boy, a blues musician, and was born with an unfiltered tongue).  I never took offense.  My positive outlook made him smile.  My demeanor would rub off, constantly.  And so it was.  It was my new normal. 

Since the time of that profound transformation, I have had an unwavering ability to find the silver lining.  Face it.  There is always a silver lining!  Is there not?

At 15 weeks gestation, during our third pregnancy, we were told of the likelihood that our little sprout would be born with Down syndrome.  When suspicions were confirmed at 18 weeks gestation, we were abundantly relieved.  It was easy to spot our silver lining.  Josiah would not be born with Trisomy 18 or Trisomy 13.  The extra 21st chromosome seemed like a walk in the park.  We would be able to take him home.  Our little man would likely survive childhood.  We could plan a future for 3 little boys, who's growth we could witness and enjoy. 

When my oldest brother died, a profound dichotomy came to a crashing end.  He and I were twins, born ten years apart.  He was an addict; I was not.  The stress of being the 'big sister,' 'my brother's keeper,' and his 'safe house' ended in an instant.  I was the big sister; he was ten years my senior.  My Mom would never again have to worry about where he was, if he had food/ money/ shelter, if he was dead or alive.  The profound stress his behavior caused, was now replaced with grief.  Threads of silver linings, everywhere we looked.  No more of this.  No more of that.  Some hope of ultimate peace.

When my first husband died, the instant silver lining was that his pain had ended.  I took great comfort in that.  He would never have to have another surgery.  He would never have to take medicine again.  He would never be near-death again.  He could rest peacefully.  His spirit could soar, unhindered by the physical confines that held his body hostage. 

And so life continued.  There are silver linings everywhere.  I'm always looking.  I always find them.  Some years ago, I heard a saying that I just loved.  Though I don't know who to credit, and I'm paraphrasing here.  The gist was this.....you can live your life as if nothing is a miracle OR you can live your life as if everything is a miracle.  Given my knack for finding silver linings, I could relate so well to that concept.  Silver linings?  Miracles?  They truly are everywhere. 

When i was reunited with my high school sweetheart, I often referred to him as my silver lining, my second chance.  We married.  He took our name with ultimate plans of adopting the boys (whom he loved like his own).  On a Friday night, not long ago, he kissed me goodnight and retired for the night.  He never woke up.  12 hours later, he was cold.

For weeks, I found myself saying "He was my silver lining, my second chance."  Losing my first husband left holes in my very soul.  This reunification and love reignited, had been the happy ending.  I had never before considered that a silver lining might be temporary.  I had never pictured a silver lining being ripped, torn, or taken away.  Every trial, tribulation, and tragedy ended with a silver lining....which, in turn, brought renewed hope, peace, and joy.  Then this profound dichotomy hit me like a ton of bricks.

Silver linings come at a very steep cost!  If you have found a silver lining, you have first endured disappointment, tragedy, or loss.

Since losing my second husband, I was instantly able to recognize all the things for which I was grateful.  We had this amazing 'fairy tale', second chance.  Some never experience the kind of love that I've experienced twice!  I have amazing friends who came running on a tragic Saturday morning.  I have amazing tribes who helped with every single need, for weeks.  I have an amazing family who was willing to do anything, at any time, in order to provide support. 

Silver linings?  Yes.  I have new family members that have become so profoundly important to me.  Just last week, another silver lining presented itself.  It's mere existence gives me peace of mind that we will be ok.

Silver linings have come at a steep price.  Loneliness.  Shattered dreams.  Hopes lost.  Profound sadness.  Anxiety.  Insomnia.  The "why's?".  Looking for someone, only to find their empty chair.  Longing for their voice, only to hear silence.  Memories of a touch you will never again experience.  The finality of loss......

Yes, the silver linings have come at a steep price.

Even in that, there's a silver lining of self awareness, strength, determination, dignity, and grace.  It's all cyclical.  As long as your willingness to find the silver linings remains unwavering, you will always find one.  When you do, hang on tight!!  Sometimes they are temporary......

Stealing Solitude

When I was a little girl, I loved spending time at my Grandma's house.  I especially loved spending Thursday evenings at her house.  The Waltons used to air on Thursday nights.  My Grandma would sit in her red chair.  My aunt would sit on a couch, usually reading her newspaper.  I would sit on the floor, toys spread out around me.  For an hour, we would sit and watch the show we adored.

I used to marvel at John Boy.  He was the oldest of the Walton children.  In the show, he was depicted as a high school student - later a college student.  Inevitably, during each episode, the viewer would observe John Boy sitting at his desk.  The desk was nestled beneath a window in his bedroom; It looked out into the front yard.  There, he would write.

He would write about his family.  He would write about recent events .  He would write about his desires.  He never sought to embellish but merely to tell a story.  Yes, sometimes the stories were big (such as when he witnessed the Hindenburg explode).  That was not the norm, though.  Usually, he was telling about a first kiss, or of an old woman drinking bootleg whiskey (unknowingly).  

It seemed already, to me, that most writers sought drama.  How many twists and turns could a show provide?  How many intrigues could a story include?  I guess that's why I was enamored by the Waltons.  I was enamored by John Boy and his prolific ability to write of the simplicities of life.  That's where my passion for writing began.  It's where I first learned of the importance of the "little things".  Every story does not need to involve drama, intrigue, betrayal, and murder.  A good story can tell of a poplar tree, a child giggling, a first kiss.  Yes, the older I become, the more important these things are to me.

In today's hustle and bustle, I sometimes struggle to find time for those little things: the time to write in the blog, time to just "be."  Sometimes they happen without notice (whilst collapsed in exhaustion).  Sometimes, there just isn't time.  

As summer ended, Fall crept in like a thief in the night.  Suddenly, we are in the throws of school, EI, therapies, playgroups, doctor's appointments, and extra curricular activities.  Just as morning comes too quickly, so does bedtime.  It seems harder and harder to find those moments of peace, those moments of solitude.

How very important they are for the mind and soul.  I will endeavor to find time for those little things.  Stealing solitude - how very important it is.