How much more I appreciate a beautiful day than one that is gray and overcast.But, as Kathleen writes so beautifully, it is the contrast which makes a life. Even though I know in my mind and my heart and memories that the box of darkness, when my mood or thoughts are at the moment living inside the dark box, is a gift. It is an observation, a lesson that bears reminding. It is uncomfortable. So, if in each moment or remembering daily and maybe even sharing the gratitude with someone, I can remember that I am growing more comfortable with my uncomfortableness. The lesson of each day!

Dear Kristi, It is a wonderful gift to write and share the swirl of thoughts and emotions we all are experiencing these days in one form or another. Kindred spirits give me strength when personal and societal concerns can cloud over the Lights. Your honesty is especially helpful.
I printed out your offering about how to live a grateful life, always but especially at this time! I have read and re-read often. It is noticing those “shooting stars” and being grateful that is so important to make a practice

Thank you for your gift. It is a shooting star that can fill the darkness. A wise friend uses familiar words that give whole new meanings. De-Light.

Missy

There is so much wisdom in your story, Tesa.
My mother died two days after my daughter’s wedding 22 years ago. I felt she was holding on and often heard her words to me, never actually spoken, oh Missy, I never would have done this to you at such a beautiful time when Chrissy is getting married.
The day after the wedding, my husband and I took some wedding cake and flowers to her in the nursing home. She had a soft smile, no words. The next day, I went to see her and she was not awake and her breathing was different. I sat for awhile. Then the fire alarm went off. As I walked down the hall to the nurses, the heavy fire doors closed behind me. Those who had cared for her, were waiting to see whether it was a false alarm. They were in a loose circle and I joined them. False alarm. I looked at each of them and thanked them and said I was going to leave and didn’t think I would be back. An hour later, I received the call that she had slipped away.For years, I felt uncomfortable, not guilty but the feeling lingered. Years later, a professional told me that it was not uncommon for a parent to want a beloved child to not be there at the moment of death. So your experience and that of others who respond to that part of your story, have had similar experiences.
I think it is so important that others hear that. For me, learning that helped to soften my mourning.

Names, yes. Some may stay but what they mean changes.Within these names is the perceptions that I need to let go of what I thought I was “doing”right.Not resting on my efforts or even laurels. New ways to be. That trying hard to do the right thing, say the right thing, is the past. To pilgrimage is to quiet and listen more. Be in this moment. Really hear what those I love are saying and feeling. I have no answers for myself, how can I know their real needs.

I cannot see what is around the corner, what joys and sorrows will come.Whatever protective shields grew may fall away on this pilgrimage. I have managed through many very difficult times and situations and with those I love. I feel courage traveling with all of you on your pilgrimages. Thank you for being with me. I am with you.

I have been aware that I am moving through thresholds which invite me to let go of the defenses I have built over a long lifetime. Illnesses of close family members have given me more to expose where I can learn to live more wholeheartedly. The timing of these guides is an answer to prayers. I pray to be open to the two David’s and the internal guides who come to accompany me on this journey. Knowing that so many others are united at the same time, gives me hope for myself and for the world.

So I will listen to what is me and what is not me.