A Moment of Sheer Joy

For months now, I haven't been able to write anything. In the beginning, I would sit at my computer and blankly stare at the keyboard. For some reason, words refused to come. As the weeks turned to months, I just avoided blogging and journaling all together. In fact, not only did my writing cease, I also slowly stopped sharing my heart with people and pretty much stopped communicating in general. Stuck in silence....

This week, three things happened that actually made be want to write again. (I will probably post them in three separate posts.) I am still processing their significance, but since I feel compelled to write, I might as well get the words out before they disappear.

A couple of days ago, I took Abigail to town in attempt to distract us from the fact we were so tired, and help us cope with jet lag. It was dusk, but I decided to stop at a park and let Abigail run around for a bit. When we arrived at the playground area, there were only three other people. Two men in their late twenties/early thirties and a boy of about 4. At first, I thought it was a bit strange that all three of them were on the bouncy bridge part of the playset. I typically don't see grown men on playground equipment. As Abigail rushed off for the slide, I studied them a bit more closely. After watching them for a few minutes, what was happening was began to dawn on me. One of the men was blind, and the other two were showing him around the play equipment. They helped him across the bridge, up a few steps, slide down a pole, and climb a ladder. I was mesmerized as I watched him painstakingly work his way over to the monkey bars. I watched as the man's friend showed him the bars and then forced him to try to hang on the bars and work his way across them. I could see the uncertainty on his face each time he moved one of his hands. As he waved each hand desperately trying to find his next handhold, my heart broke for the man. Despite all of his concentration and determination, he only made it about halfway across the span before he fell.

As I watched my three-year-old daughter and the other little boy easily navigate the play equipment running and laughing, I wondered how frustrating, difficult, and humbling it must be to live every day having to ask for help to do things that even a three-year old-can do easily.

Not long after the monkey bars, the blind man's friend led him over to the swing set and helped him get settled on a swing. As the man began to pump his legs, his whole demeanor changed. His face took on a look of awe and wonder. His stark white teeth stood out against his dark skin as he broke out into a huge grin. He let out half-laugh, half-shriek of pleasure as his swing went higher and higher. I can't recall the last time I saw any one's face covered with such sheer joy. For a moment, I was almost jealous. He looked like he was enjoying himself so much. I secretly longed to jump on a swing, close my eyes, and try to catch a glimpse of the joy he was experiencing, blindly swing with the wind on his face.

For the next 30 minutes, the man swung back and forth, the smile never leaving his face. A few times, I think I even heard him humming. As darkness closed in, I packed up my daughter and left the park. In my rear view mirror, I could still make out the man's swinging, smiling face as I drove away.

Even though it has been two days, I can't quite seem to shake the image from my mind. While I don't know this man's story, I can imagine that life is not easy for him. I watched him struggle across a set of monkey bars, only to see him moments later swinging in joyful abandonment. He could have been so consumed with his struggles that he didn't enjoy the swing, or he could have been so concerned with what other people might think of a grown man shrieking with joy on a swingset made for children that he held himself back. However, he didn't care what anyone thought. Instead, he seized the moment and enjoyed it to the fullest.

That man probably did not even know I was at the park watching him, but he has inspired me to look for moments of joy amidst the struggles of life, and truly relish them when I find them.

Christmas in a Blizzard

This year, we went to the farm in Iowa for Christmas for 9 days. We arrived just before a blizzard hit and spent most of our vacation snowed in. Even though we probably only got about 18 inches of snow, every time the wind blew the little county gravel roads became impassible. While I did get good time with my parents and sister, I barely got to see my brother's family. I also didn't get much time to spend with my friends and extended family. There is just something about being snowed in that leaves me feeling claustrophobic. Overall, it was an okay trip, but I was so looking forward to it that I left feeling a little disappointed.