It has been a long time since I posted anything. This has been a difficult summer for me. I'm not exactly sure why.
I think the darkness started to fall on my Mom's 90th birthday. It was really hard for me to accept that my Mom was turning 90 and it was a sad, not a happy day. I have had numerous people I love reach ninety years of age, and always before it was an occasion of great celebration. There was no point in celebration for Harriet, that much disruption would only upset her. It seemed so terribly unfair to me that someone should live that long, only to spend so much time without cognizance.
This summer has also seen a friend lose a great-grandchild to cancer, a friend lose a wife to cancer, and a long-time work associate be stricken with Guillain-Barre syndrome. Every time I feel like I am clawing my way out of the darkness, another wave has taken my feet out from under me.
Usually, I can pull myself up better than I have this summer. It seems like my well of hope is dry. There have been occasional bright spots. My husband and I went on a short vacation with my daughter and son-in-law, and those were very good days. A dear friend came into town and we had dinner, and that was a very good day. Then the darkness comes back.
I usually process my way through the darkness by writing, but I couldn't seem to force myself to write either. Even the laundry stopped bringing me joy. (Laundry has long been the soother of my soul. I love laundry.)
I have tried to make myself open this blog and write. I have managed to compose a few pages in my novel, and to crochet a bit. This week, my husband and I started staining boards to replace a dilapidated fence in the backyard. Each effort, a tiny step towards pushing out of the darkness.
A few weeks ago, we had a visiting priest for Mass. He spoke heavily accented English, and I had to work really hard to understand him during Mass, but especially during the sermon. It was good for me to pay that close attention, because it allowed me to really process what he was saying. One thing he said will stick with me forever. He alleged that the greatest sin is to not use God's gifts to you to make the world a better place. Wasting God's gifts is the worst sin according to this priest.
It made me think about what my gifts are. I think I can write. I think I can be nurturing. I think I can help people to find peace, or inspiration or comfort. Maybe I have been stuck in the darkness because I have not been using my gifts.
It took ten days from the day of that sermon until I had the discipline to try to write. I will try harder each day to find words to put on paper. They may not be as inspirational as I want them to be, but they will be honest.
Sometimes, the best way to inspire is to acknowledge your own struggle. I have difficulty admitting when I am struggling. I like to be the comforter, not the comforted. But if I don't share my struggles, my darkness, then I am not allowing you to see the real me.
I miss the connection I feel when I see that people have read my postings. I truly welcome comments, because some of my struggle this summer has been feeling purposeless. I didn't post for more than three weeks, and no one asked where I was. This left me feeling that I am pushing myself on people, rather than providing a bright spot.
I know I have to be my own cheerleader, and that I have to be my own driver and disciplinarian. But truth be told, the approval junkie in me hasn't gotten a fix in a long time. I need to learn to persevere without external support. And I will.
This summer will not be remembered as one of my favorites. But hopefully, I can turn this discontent into a renewed sense of purpose. I want to use the gifts God gave me to make the world a better place. And I simply can't do that when I let the darkness win.
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