let's you know you're alive and human.
Something that has been prevalent recently has been joy and heartache walking hand in hand down the road of my life. When my heart hurts, I comfort myself, with things like "he's in a better place with people who can love him and give him awesome food" (pertaining to a baby chick I was taking care of), but that doesn't stop me missing having him in my lap and feeling his heartbeat in my hand.
So sometimes I cry.
And today I made an early trip home so I could squeeze and love on my cats and hear them purr.
And at the end of the day, which is right now, with the almost spring air coming through my open window and my heart squeezing and aching with the missing of my chick, I know that I am human. As a human, I hurt. As a human, I feel joy. These two things are always intertwined, because if you didn't have love for the chick, it wouldn't hurt to see him go.
Dancing brings me joy and makes me feel freshly alive, as if in the turns and sways to the beat, my skin turns over a new leaf and my lungs breathe in for the first time. And although I would much rather dance, in my heartache I feel alive, yes, and connected by love to not just animals, but the earth and to God/the universe/to my Maker, who has cared about the baby chicks since the very first egg.
And that brings me comfort.
Something that has been prevalent recently has been joy and heartache walking hand in hand down the road of my life. When my heart hurts, I comfort myself, with things like "he's in a better place with people who can love him and give him awesome food" (pertaining to a baby chick I was taking care of), but that doesn't stop me missing having him in my lap and feeling his heartbeat in my hand.
So sometimes I cry.
And today I made an early trip home so I could squeeze and love on my cats and hear them purr.
And at the end of the day, which is right now, with the almost spring air coming through my open window and my heart squeezing and aching with the missing of my chick, I know that I am human. As a human, I hurt. As a human, I feel joy. These two things are always intertwined, because if you didn't have love for the chick, it wouldn't hurt to see him go.
Dancing brings me joy and makes me feel freshly alive, as if in the turns and sways to the beat, my skin turns over a new leaf and my lungs breathe in for the first time. And although I would much rather dance, in my heartache I feel alive, yes, and connected by love to not just animals, but the earth and to God/the universe/to my Maker, who has cared about the baby chicks since the very first egg.
And that brings me comfort.
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