The Hard Work of Beauty: An Update

Dear friends,

Sometimes I forget. Sometimes I forget what it's like to be really sick: so sick that I will suddenly and unexpectedly have trouble walking, so sick that simple tasks like brushing my teeth wears me out, so sick that I cannot dream the future. Nearly 19 months ago I went into remission from Lyme Disease (after being partially paralyzed, after having it for four years, after not being able to work for the majority of that time). And in the time since I went into remission, I haven't looked back: I finished grad school. I worked. I published a collection of liturgies. I exercised regularly. I took a vacation or two. I had energy all day. I dated a man who showed me Love and goodness. I giggled under the sea. I made some powerful decisions. The bee played cupid: I became attached to others. And in a few weeks, I will begin work on my Ph.D. in Leadership Studies. I write this short list of accomplishments because I need to remember the hard work of beauty, and you, o weary soul, must be reminded that you have a future, a bright future.

For these reasons, this blog remains live. Welcome to my life lived for a few years (2008-10). I am the same person today you see in the posts, but I am more - much, much more. My friend Joel says I change the fastest out of anyone he knows. I'd say that's pretty accurate; I surprise no one more than myself. Today, I am surely creating my garden; I am looking more at the future than the past; and though I'm still scared, I'm more likely to speak my fears out into the world.

Because when I do, the world surely speaks back.

So speak, dear reader, speak. Even if you believe no one is listening, someone or something is. If you cannot speak, move your arm or leg - anything to show Her/Him/It that you're still alive. As long as your garden has some semblance of life, the bee can play cupid and spread brightness in and through you.

Blessings to you,

A.