Something strange happened to me this spring—my heart grew hard like stone. When I first noticed, I thought maybe I was standing on the edge of a depression, but it didn’t feel like depression. It was just that my heart was cold—I lacked the warmth necessary to cry over hard things in my life or to laugh deep belly laughs. I tried ignoring it, hoping it would go away; surely it was simply a season. Maybe I was tired or overdoing life. Maybe it was a sensory overload and if I took a break from social media, my heart would thaw. Maybe I needed to get away.
From an article originally posted March 10, 2014…
Today I ran to Costco with my oldest to stock up on prepared meals: lasagna, pizza, bagels, fruit, because meals need to happen, but we just can’t do it this week. So we extended ourselves a little grace and went and purchased all the samples that we liked today that we regularly never eat. I threw in fruit to balance the preservatives and bought organic sauce instead of the regular kind to feel better about my lame cooking this week.
Ella and I were rounding the corner to grab toast that is full of protein and chia seeds when we saw him. He was my age or maybe younger and he was in a motorized cart. I knew his deep set dark eyes, his bald, and his gaunt frame. He took my breath away. He could be my mirror in a short time from today.
From an article originally posted March 8, 2014…
The struggle to know peace in this unknown is a constant begging, asking, listening to truth. In the waiting and the unknown, much works to steal peace. Much. So we do the motions of life. We do what we know to be normal and we fight for joy in our moments. I play the music loud and dance, I try and remember food, and I walk each moment noticing each foot in front of the other.
From an article originally posted 3-7-2014…
You all made me weep yesterday, big tears of heartbreak and gratitude. I asked for scripture and you showed up like a boss. I clung to your verses, your prayers, you kind thoughts, quotes, and encouragement yesterday. I needed them. Every single comment was read multiple times. My dear friend Autumn who calls me her Anne of Green Gables and she is my Diana, told me she loved her Anne and signed it Diana-I was utterly undone in the middle of Bonefish.
If you don’t know this about me—though I mention it a lot—I am a crier. I want to be someone who doesn’t cry at Hallmark commercials or after hearing the story of the woman who recently walked up to me at Starbucks and told me her daughter’s medical diagnosis and that she likely won’t live, but it’s not in my DNA.
But for friends, I cry the easiest. When my people are hurting, I hurt too.