August 11th, 2014
I am so late in getting this post out this week. I was traveling for work and had no time to sit and reflect. Most of the time I hate weeks like this, no time to pause, no time to sit in the moment and feel, not moving out of it until you’re good and ready. This week though has honestly been a welcome distraction. I’ve been so focused on my work that I haven’t had time to cry or be anxious of something that isn’t going to happen. I was in the moment, completely focused on the work and teaching I had to do and that was a true gift.
A change of scenery and being surrounded by people who don’t know my story was less painful than I imagined it would be when I got on the plane to Chicago last Sunday. Although, I did use the flight to cry a little. I’m not sure if that happens to you, but somehow being up in the clouds always brings me to tears over whatever is breaking my heart at the moment. This time was no different and I felt my heart pulled in connection to my angel and was filled with such hope of what is to come.
And that’s really what I wanted to share with you today: a story of hope. My friend Erin gave me the Love Rock pictured above on the night I finally shared my own story out loud with her. She said it was a special rock because not only was it shaped like a heart, but that she was connected to the woman who created this Love Rock movement as a way to spread joy and love in the wake of tragedy. As I listened to Anna and Abby’s Mom’s story, I sat thinking that before I felt like I had nothing to hold on to and how this little rock fit perfectly in my hand. Wrapping my fingers around this lovely weight, there was a physical manifestation of my little angel. I loved that the fabric looked like it had little bandaids all over it, like my heart was being patched up piece by piece. This little token of love has brought me such peace since that Sunday. I love having it nearby when I am going to sleep at night. I love coming across it as I move through my day. Thankfully, it isn’t a sad reminder of what I’ve lost, but instead a place I can put all my love and hope for the future.