in disguise, the blessing

AS i drove along the country side road home, the winter sky held daylight a little longer. a church i passed with a reader board said, "hope is the anchor for the soul".

the sign changes with weekly Epiphany, from someone who takes a walk to the side of the road with plastic letters in hand, after being given the phrase of the week. this week it reminded me of this blessing that has been given in disguise.

based on hope and at times feeling as if hope never existed. a conflicted being, driving along the road somewhere, in the Universe.

what is life, i thought as i looked up at the trees. making it, surviving? eternal struggles? a lifetime of conflict resolution?
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give me a reason, i demand to God in my thoughts as i drove along the road.

give me a reason for the refinement as gold, for the trials. i wanted a definition.


it's the blessing in disguise

the thing feared most begins to harbor the hope and brighter days. in this situation, it was the fear of the institution, based on previous experience, it was a concrete fear, not an abstract, or irrational fear.

forced into a situation, that seemed bleak, had a history of painful outcome.



it was, like diving into the deep end head first, hoping there was enough water to catch the body softly when it hit bottom.
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there is something almost healing in power, by action

when walking with my daughter yesterday along the paths and woods, and space where patients once walked decades ago. i feel somehow this was giving back to them. giving back the freedom they lost to being locked away in an institution built in the 1870's, walking along the dog park in 2010, alongside the cemetery where only recently, graves with numbers are beginning to be named. many death years are 1934.

there we stand, with this wonder. my daughter. advocating fiercely for outside time for weeks, there we stood yesterday, in light rain and jackets petting dogs. beautiful irish wolf hounds, small dogs. all giving love to my daughter, her hand reaching down to pet them gently.

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one of the first times we were given a pass to go out this week, we got ice cream. i looked over my shoulder at her sitting in the seat behind me in the car.

her eyes were closed, and she had a smile on her face of sheer delight and joy as she licked the spoon of ice cream.

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happiness and freedom in an old setting, but not for all patients

i hope, before too long there will be others able to walk to the dog park, across the street, where the old farm once was, now a 22 acre off leash dog park, where dreams can meet reality, where hope meets despair, where blessings come in disguise.


*i began this post on friday and finished it on sunday morning, referencing yesterday's (saturday's) 2.5 hr long outing to the dog park where we met irish wolf hounds, and found a school to play basketball, and even went inside a store to browse. another outing happens again, today, on sunday. it has been truly wonderous watching my daughter gain freedom to go out with us, see her smile and enjoy the freedom she so richly deserved. regretfully, not all patients have this permission, and it is difficult to know that there are dozens, and dozens of patients just across the street, when at the dog park. i so hope things can change, for others. that's a big dream in this situation.