An Imperfect World

A while back, I wrote about an old co-worker whose wise words were quite comforting at a time when I was still struggling with the reality of my heart attack and new normal.

"The world in which we live is an imperfect one.  In order to be at peace, one must forgive the world for being imperfect."

I try to hold this close to my rickety little heart when I consider the obstacles in my own life. But then, instances like the horrific tragedy that unfolded in Connecticut flood into the world and I can't make peace with it.  I am a parent. I work in a school.  And yet, I cannot begin to fathom the "new normal" that community wakes up to everything morning. How do you forgive the world for being this imperfect?

On the same day of the mass shooting, one of my SCAD sisters suffered another dissection and, at the age of 35, soldiered through a double bypass surgery.  I had the opportunity to meet her and her lovely family at the SCAD walk last May.  We always know it's a possibility - that it's sort of inevitable that roughly 1/2 of the 200 survivors we know of will go through it again.  She's like me - a mama (but of three!), a wife, and co-worker and friend.  Again - how do you forgive the world for being this imperfect?

So, I sit at my kitchen table, eyes scanning the latest reports on the news AND facebook-stalking my SCAD sister for any update on her condition. How do you forgive the world for being this imperfect?

You can't. You must have Hope.

Newly made memories begin to flash in my mind.

Twins!

One of the first weekend mornings we spent in our new home.

The discovery of the Gardenland Express at the Missouri Botanical Gardens.

 

Waiting for Santa of course!

 

Upon being asked what he'd like for Christmas, Cameron swiftly responded "cookies, please Sunta-Cluz". You can use your imagination to figure out what happened when the elf-helper gave my nearly terrible-two toddler a 4 pack of crayons on the way out..

 

Our first family bike ride to the playground (realizing on the way that we need to get Cam a helmet)

 

I can't and don't forgive the world for being imperfect.  Maybe one day, I'll be old and wise enough to make peace with the bad things happening to good people.  Today is not that day. It makes me angry and sad and quite frankly, a little hopeless. But then - I look at my child's face.  And I think, okay - if I can create something so amazing then surely, the world cannot be so bad! I have hope for him and his future and so, I push ahead. I can work, in my own little corner of the world, to create all kinds experiences (and memories!) for him.  And one day, hopefully a long time from now, when I'm gone, he'll have a wonderful, wonderful life of his own and spend his days creating something beautiful with his own family.

On a recent outing, Cameron learned how to make a wish by throwing pennies into a wishing well.  I was able to fish about 10 pennies out of my wallet (usually reserved for the penny-pressing machine) and offered them up.  He threw the first nine in fairly swiftly and looking at me rather puzzled.  "More wishes?" he said.  "Mama doesn't have anymore pennies" I replied.  So, he clutched his last penny, trying to decide if it was really worth it to make his last wish.

 And with a hopeful squeal, he made his last wish of the day. 

For some reason, that little squeal filled my heart will all kinds of warmth and love and hope for him to experience all the happiness he can bear :)

 

Out of all of this tragedy, I have one clear thought - to be present and thankful for every minute.  Every one.

This is my winter song to you.
The storm is coming soon,
it rolls in from the sea

My voice; a beacon in the night.
My words will be your light,
to carry you to me.

Is love alive?
Is love alive?
Is love

They say that things just cannot grow
beneath the winter snow,
or so I have been told.

They say were buried far,
just like a distant star
I simply cannot hold.

Is love alive?
Is love alive?
Is love alive?

This is my winter song.
December never felt so wrong,
cause you're not where you belong;
inside my arms.

I still believe in summer days.
The seasons always change
and life will find a way.

Ill be your harvester of light
and send it out tonight
so we can start again.

Is love alive?
Is love alive?
Is love alive?

This is my winter song.
December never felt so wrong,
cause you're not where you belong;
inside my arms.

This is my winter song to you.
The storm is coming soon
it rolls in from the sea.

My love a beacon in the night.
My words will be your light
to carry you to me. 

Winter Song - Sara Bareilles & Ingrid Michaelson