This prayer is for you, Mumma, as you sit in another specialist’s room, hoping maybe this one will have the answer for your child.
I was in the middle of severe grief due to miscarriages, and I found this book called Bittersweet. I don’t recall what made me pick it up. Whether it was the picture of the crumbled chocolate on the front or the subtitle; ‘thoughts on change, grace and learning the hard way’.
Either way, it found its way home with me. As I read it, often with tears in my eyes, I was so grateful for this author Shauna Niequist. She managed to articulate her own pain in such a way that she gave me words to express mine.
First weekend of the holidays and my eldest, and I have come down with a cold. We have stayed in PJs and snuggled in blankets. We have drunk honey and lemon drinks, and Mr made us chicken noodle soup. It’s what you do when your sick, it’s the norm, a tradition of sorts.
As you take that deep breath,
The one that fills your battered lungs with enough air for the tears to fall once more.
So I broke my promise. The one I made, when I said I was going to write every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday until the end of the year. I didn’t post on Monday this week. I couldn’t. I was overwhelmed by the voices on social media, hard, unforgiving, strident, graceless.
In December 1995 I travelled to Paris and studied the French language intensively there for three months. It is a city I have always held dear to my heart.
I have spent the bulk of this morning on the beach with the extended family. Watching my girls and their cousins, their grandparents, their aunties and uncles. We have been swimming, and building sand castles, enjoying the sun and the freedom.
On the other side of the world people are frantically trying to find out if their loved ones are ok. They are trying desperately to get home in a city where transport has been halted for a while. They are trying to comprehend the horror of what has befallen them.
Me too, I am trying to understand why? And other questions arise with that.