Strength in Snail Mail
I was just standing on my back porch, looking out at the trees, at the sweet family teaching their daughter how to swim.
"I can do this on my own." I thought as I surveyed the world around me. "I'm ok on my own, for now. I'm happy. I'm happy with my life, with where I am. I am good doing life on my own for a bit."
It was a bit of a declaration to my sometimes lonely heart. Perhaps I believed it, perhaps I was trying to convince myself. Perhaps I honestly don't know what it is that I want at this moment in time.
Whatever the truth of the statement was, I left it sitting in the humid Texas air as I walked back inside to take the dog out. When I opened my door, distracted by the excited pup, I was surprised to find a large box sitting on my doorstep. I picked it up and looked to see who it was from. Immediately tears began to fill my eyes.
Two of my high school best friends, who I have not seen in eleven years, had sent me a care package.
I dropped the leash on the floor and told the dog she would have to wait as I unpacked the gifts inside.
It was a care package of beautiful proportions, filled with love and laughter, creativity and kindness. Inside was tucked a note with declarations of strength, and most importantly, a reminder of the beauty and pervasive nature of friendship. In that moment, I had never felt more loved. That two friends, despite time and distance, would care for me so well and so intentionally, made my heart swell.
I haven't cried much with the mountain I am currently overcoming. Compared to last summer, this mountain is a breeze, a walk in the park. Compared to last summer this could almost be qualified as enjoyable (though it is not, actually, enjoyable). This mountain has been filled with kind people and broken parking garages that mean I get to park for free, frank conversations, and easy commutes. It is, as I often tell my doctors, perhaps the best possible time in my life for this diagnosis.
But as I held the pieces of friendship in my hands, I cried.
It has been these reminders- the packages and notes that I have received in the mail, that have been addressed by hand and picked out with care- that have given me what strength I possess.
It is my tribe- that has shown up for me time and time again, that has not tired of my mistakes, my challenges, or my heartaches- that pushes me forward.
I do not possess strength in adversity because I am incredible or brave. I possess a strength that is built on the people around the country and across the years that love me beyond what I deserve and care for me well beyond what I expect.
"Yes," I thought as I smiled, teary-eyed, at the package before me, "I can do this on my own . . .
. . . but what a beautiful reminder that I don't have to."
"I can do this on my own." I thought as I surveyed the world around me. "I'm ok on my own, for now. I'm happy. I'm happy with my life, with where I am. I am good doing life on my own for a bit."
It was a bit of a declaration to my sometimes lonely heart. Perhaps I believed it, perhaps I was trying to convince myself. Perhaps I honestly don't know what it is that I want at this moment in time.
Whatever the truth of the statement was, I left it sitting in the humid Texas air as I walked back inside to take the dog out. When I opened my door, distracted by the excited pup, I was surprised to find a large box sitting on my doorstep. I picked it up and looked to see who it was from. Immediately tears began to fill my eyes.
Two of my high school best friends, who I have not seen in eleven years, had sent me a care package.
I dropped the leash on the floor and told the dog she would have to wait as I unpacked the gifts inside.
It was a care package of beautiful proportions, filled with love and laughter, creativity and kindness. Inside was tucked a note with declarations of strength, and most importantly, a reminder of the beauty and pervasive nature of friendship. In that moment, I had never felt more loved. That two friends, despite time and distance, would care for me so well and so intentionally, made my heart swell.
I haven't cried much with the mountain I am currently overcoming. Compared to last summer, this mountain is a breeze, a walk in the park. Compared to last summer this could almost be qualified as enjoyable (though it is not, actually, enjoyable). This mountain has been filled with kind people and broken parking garages that mean I get to park for free, frank conversations, and easy commutes. It is, as I often tell my doctors, perhaps the best possible time in my life for this diagnosis.
But as I held the pieces of friendship in my hands, I cried.
It has been these reminders- the packages and notes that I have received in the mail, that have been addressed by hand and picked out with care- that have given me what strength I possess.
It is my tribe- that has shown up for me time and time again, that has not tired of my mistakes, my challenges, or my heartaches- that pushes me forward.
I do not possess strength in adversity because I am incredible or brave. I possess a strength that is built on the people around the country and across the years that love me beyond what I deserve and care for me well beyond what I expect.
"Yes," I thought as I smiled, teary-eyed, at the package before me, "I can do this on my own . . .
. . . but what a beautiful reminder that I don't have to."
Comments
Post a Comment