I remember growing up how badly my legs would ache at times. From my sophomore year in high school to my senior year, I grew 4". It felt as though I was being stretched nightly and the ache is something I still remember to this day.
The parrallels to the past years have been amanzingly similar. For the longest time, I really thought my life changed when Blake died. If I were to be truthful, it all changed when my first divorce took place.
The tragedy was my first true experience of inner crisis. Broken, regret, scattered, anger, hopeless, frustrated, the list of emotions, actions and reactions to what I was feeling could go on and on. It was my first experience of trying to pick up my sticks.(I will blog on dropping the sticks another day)
The crisis that followed my divorce was the first real experience of looking within and openly sharing what I was thinking. Then, much like now, I took on the renovation of a very old home. As I did the renovation, I began feeling the growing pains, only these pains were from within my heart and mind.
Many times during the reonvation of the home I'm doing at West 17th, I've stood back and had flashbacks of across the street doing the Elm Street house. (For those of you who don't know, I'm a renovator of anything. I rebuild homes and through this work, I see how I've restored my life. I've come full circle, now restoring a home built in 1909 and it sits directly across the street from the historical home I restored when my son died)
The difference between Elm and West 17th is that I've had many growing pains. The death of my son, a second divorce, the emptiness that transpired. I've felt crisis like never before, yet I'm here today living a life in the moment and filled with treasure. Honestly, as I sit and write this morning my eyes are filled with tears at how I've grown.
The tears are a mixture of saddness and happiness, I'm still growing and will forever grow within. It's when I began seeing the single blade of grass within the meadow did I understand that my strength comes from within. It's not always a rock, sometimes the pressure is overwhelming.
Yet here I am, in this moment. Blessed beyond measure, in my weaknesses and strengths, a rebuilder of lives. It's good to be home within. I traveled 33,000 miles to this place, within.