There are times in life when joy ebbs away, and you fall, fall - to the depths of the pit of despair. It doesn't happen often, and by the grace of God, the darkness is never long-lasting. There is always - always something or somebody that is given or sent to heave you out again to the familiar land of ease and comfort that you know well. And returning to this old acquaintance comes the recognition, appreciation and gratitude of what you have, and who you are.
Just today Housewife Savant blogged about her affliction with Meniere's Disease. She is realistic about her condition, recognising what helps and what doesn't, while remaining the epitome of wit and good humour and retaining her faculties with dignity. Her plight has touched me and I am grateful for my health, and that of my family.
Then this evening I received a poem from my youngest daughter, Middlepaw.
Later, a deep, honest and raw discussion with my eldest daughter.
I am grateful we can all communicate and we do it well.
Something I have recognised for a while now, is the fact that when it comes to writing about how I feel about my children, I cannot. Just like the time when the Machinist and I had one of many interviews during the course of our fostering experience:
One of the assignments was to share what we loved about each of our own children. We started off with ease, and the more we thought about how and why we loved and admired them, the more choked up we became. Even the couple who were interviewing us were tearing up as we teared up. It was one of those totally unexpected reactions and we surprised (and shocked) ourselves.
Do most parents have difficulty in verbalising why they love their offspring, I wonder?