Each day, each moment, in this second home of mine in Alaska, is a moment to be treasured. It does not truly matter how hard that moment might be in physical, or even in emotional terms. It is never truly hard.....simply because I am blessed to have them. To have the moments, the spaces and the places that I can share with this amazing Alaskan family of mine. I just need to remember that, remember it each and every day as I have to take a deep breath and call on my reserves once again.
Yes, I miss my Oregon family of my own. I miss my hubby, my house, my three cats, my possessions, my hobbies and most of all...my time and space for me. But here, I can truly feel that I am being who I truly am. The person that I have spent a lifetime finding my way towards being. A person who seeks to give from herself in all ways.....the best that she can, without anger or judgment or self-pity. or blame. It's not easy. It is extremely, extremely hard. It just is... as it is here.....and I am, as I am. I have to be so many different kinds of accepting, so many different kinds of strong and call on reserves that I never truly knew I had in me.
One month ago, my mother almost died and my father was ill and giving up. Both were in emergency rooms and hospitals......and life was at its tide's greatest ebb.
Now, it is so bustling with life and with activity.... that there are few empty spaces inbetween. But the energy is invigorating and re-activating to lives that almost ended. And now it is bursting at the seams with new life, new energy, new heartfelt gratitude, and with re-newed hope.
Two days ago, I was reminded that life and death are only one breath apart. As the strongest member of my Alaskan family walked my mother up their living room stairs to her bedroom, she suddenly turned, twisted, lurched backwards and fell. She fell as if one was watching a stunt woman on a TV drama, twisting and turning all the way down the stairs.....to the very bottom.
My brother watched, helplessly and unbelievably, from the steep 10th step up.....as I ran across the width of the living room to her, my slippers falling off me and flying through time and space.
My mother murmured and then moved. Her neck was not broken, her bones felt smooth, the arm caught under her body came out easily. She talked to us and was able to follow the directions that I gave her.
When people tell you there is no such thing as a miracle, and that everything has an explanation for why it happens, I tell you that there are nothing but miracles....for our lives are filled with them. What we see and know to be true might not yet by fully evident, but all that is real and all that is illusion is simple that one breath away.
In the morning, my mother had no memory of the fall, whatsoever. She had no headache, and no bruises, and unbelievably so....no pain. As an empathic healer, my own ribs were on fire, my head pounded, and every single inch of my body is in agony. But I am perfectly fine in every way.
Explain to me, then, I gently ask...how can this possibly be? Because I am doing what I was meant to do, I quietly whisper.....and everything is......exactly as it should be. And that..... is what Thanksgiving is truly about.
The Gastineau Channel, a flowing current between two firmaments of land that created the city of Juneau and the town of Douglas.