NPR produced a nice piece on one of the oldest survivors of HLHS. You can listen to it here.
Most of the time, I try to busy my mind with little details; jumping into work, planning a meal, considering the best way to organize the closet that will contain our art supplies. Mindless things that keep your mind full, that keep you from entering that tender place, that darker place - the place that makes you well up with tears.
It's good, though, to let my mind drift and settle in this tender place, as the tears can also be cleansing. Nourishing.
I've found myself much more in tune with nature these past few days, so aware of the blanket of darkness that creeps in and covers the mornings and afternoons just a little bit more with each passing day. As a mirror of the temperment, Winter is certainly the image of a turning inward, a slowing down, a need for producing your own place of warmth in the midst of the storm outside the walls of your mind.
And that's just it. Out of darkness, there is light - a candle of hope, of peace, that only I can light. The flame exists of its own accord, but I must strike the match. It is only in sitting quietly, letting go of the mindless thoughts that cover up the darkness with their bling of busyness, that I can truly appreciate the warm glow of this reality - of my reality, of Patrick's reality, of Finn's reality, of Lachlan's reality - even in the cold darkness of the situation.
As I start to warm my hands in front of the small fire that our family has created, I find myself immensely grateful for others who live with an inner glow so powerful that its warmth extends beyond them and enters our lives. For family, friends, and you, my blog readers, for your support. For the coming of Solstice, and how it has provided an opportunity to turn inward and celebrate the return of the light.
When I hear a story like this, about an HLHS survivor, I'm ever so hopeful that the light will, in fact, return to our family in all of its splendor, and that one day we can enjoy the long days of Summer once again, watching our two little boys romp around in the twilight, trying to catch lightning bugs.
