Breathe. In and out. Repeat.

Some days just pass by without me taking much notice; they seem normal and uneventful, as if nothing tumultuous has ever happened to me or to those I love. 

And other times, I have fleeting moments where I need to remind myself to breathe, to let go, to concentrate on doing the next right thing. 

"Waterfall In Forest" - courtesy of
phonsawat at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Still others are entire days when I need to remind myself continually of those things: specific days such as a birthday or an anniversary, a statutory holiday like Christmas or Easter or Thanksgiving. At those times, I wonder how I'll get through the day, remind myself to breathe, in and out, and repeat as needed. And it's hard, even with relying heavily on my relationship with God and reminding myself that "He's got me."  

And ... miraculously ... I get through it. 

I had a day like that recently - our baby girl's birthday was last Wednesday. She would have been 22 years old. Try as I might to treat it like "just any other day" ... it was difficult to concentrate and I kept making silly, stupid mistakes that just weren't "me." 

The love of friends and family helped me as I breathed in, and breathed out. Giving myself permission to grieve without guilt or shame was key to surviving the experience. And love, love expressed in tangible ways, was the healing balm that I needed. God usually finds a way to remind me that He cares by showing me that people care. This particular time it was through a thoughtful gift from a friend miles away from here. 

Photo "Daisy Flower" by
markuso at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Someone reminded me a few weeks ago that the pain of an initial physical injury (such as when I tore the cartilage in my shoulder on August 7, 2006) can be remembered, but not brought back and relived or re-experienced with the same intensity. (Not that I'd want to!!) 

However, the pain of an emotional injury is just as fresh and excruciating as its memory. If the emotionally painful experience is remembered, the emotional pain comes with it. 

What I didn't know until several months ago is that the brain releases the exact same chemicals when experiencing emotional pain as when having physical pain. It's therefore crucial to be gentle with ourselves when life throws a monkey-wrench into our daily experience. 

"It will pass. It will," a still small Voice says inside of me. "Breathe."

"Again." 

And I do. And it passes. 

And the next day life could return completely back to normal. And it often does. 

But I'm so glad that when those times come, when the billows roll over me and knock me around, I know I can count on Love to be whatever I need it to be for me at the time I need it. Even if it's hard. 

Love is Life's breath.

So I breathe. In and out. And ... repeat as needed.

Relax into it

Every so often my daughter - who is prone to anxiety - gets so tense that she can't relax herself, so she gets headaches and backaches that can't be touched by anti-inflammatories, muscle relaxers or electric massagers. That's when she asks me if I will give her a massage.

It's something I used to do a lot when she was having regular migraines. 

So I get her to sit down in a chair in front of the dining room table, with her arms resting in front of her on the table and her head resting upon her arms. She knows "the drill" - the unspoken request for her to fight her natural instinct to tense up when I start to massage a tender spot. Tensing up only makes it hurt worse in the long run. So she has learned to "relax into it." 

Photo "Oil Massage" courtesy
of samuiblue at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

And the massages take far less time as a result. I can literally feel the knots loosening under my hands and fingers as I work. She accepts a certain amount of discomfort, knowing that when I am done, the pain will be far less than when I started. 

It's a lesson we teach each other. I've been taking her example as I get into a different season in my life, one of waiting. I find waiting so incredibly hard. 

Yet I spend the vast majority of my time doing it. 

Just now I'm in transition, extricating myself from one university program to migrate to one in a different university that (even though it will take longer) will give me a more usable degree when I am done. The process of change is stressful, but already I am seeing myself with more time on my hands, and having that much free time is a bit of an adjustment for me after spending almost every spare waking minute studying. It's too early to apply for the new program, so in some ways I'm twiddling my thumbs. This (believe it or not) is tension-producing. I'm learning ... slowly ... to 'relax into it' and let events unfold as they unfold. For someone who historically has had to know what was going to happen for the next five or ten years in advance, this is a relatively new skill. 

Breathe in. Breathe out. Relax. Good words. 

Good words to remember as this week (Wednesday) we try to find a way to celebrate (and survive) Arielle's birthday. To know that that particular day marks 38 weeks since we got the news of her death. And to take the next breath in. And let it out. To relax while we do it. And then do it again. 

"Relaxing into it" is a lifestyle lived out day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute. It's a lifestyle of acceptance - acceptance of people, places, and circumstances. It is a refusal to tense up and stress over things I can't control. It is letting go of what was before and embracing what is now ... even if the now is painful. Or uncertain. Or blah. It's all good. God has His finger on that pressure point and all I need to do is turn my attention to His care for me and the knots of tension disappear from my soul. I can breathe again, move again, laugh again. I can learn to live in that relaxed state. 

And why not?

Firework

Eight months ago we were getting ready to say our farewells to one of the most amazing, unpredictable, compassionate, loyal, intense people we've ever met. That she also just happened to be our daughter was a happy bonus. 

When we were talking about how we would remember her, how we would honour her, her sister came up with the perfect tribute. We'd pass out sparklers at her funeral to celebrate her life, her joy, her zest for living to the fullest, her 'go-big-or-go-home' attitude. We'd suggest that when it got dark that night, for people to go outside and light their sparklers, and hold them high in her memory. 

The night following her funeral, a few of her closest friends got together and videoed themselves doing just that. Together. Which is the way she'd want it.

 
In fact, a lot of what I and those people who remember her best have done these past several months, has been in honour of her and the way she lived her life. Full bore. Full court press. Hard forward. Brightly burning just like the firework she was (and is.) Mediocrity wasn't even in her vocabulary. If she believed in something (or someone) she showed it, no questions, no reservations, no holding back. She plunged head - no - heart-first into everything. Fiercely loyal. Generous to a fault. Passionate. 

And whole-hearted. Courageous.

If you are on Facebook, I hope you can view this video, taken by Darcy Anthony Brown on November 2, 2013 and shared on Arielle's wall. 

The idea was inspired by Katy Perry's "Firework." CARPE DIEM. Seize the day!

 https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=10151698891516817