In the Quiet

I feel as though I have been a little quiet lately, that quiet hasn’t been intentional on my part it has simply been pressed upon us. I think since making yet another gigantic leap of faith with our move across country, we have settled into a season of quiet, of peace, and it has given us time to gain even greater perspective and rally for what is ahead, whatever that may be. We are coming up on year 3. Three years of Rett Syndrome following us through our everyday life. Three years of us riding the waves of the unpredictable, of new symptoms arising, of old tricks not working, of the shock of this is our “new normal” actually starting to wear off. We have settled into a season of relative calm, we have room to breathe, and it is such a salve on once broken hearts.

   You see nothing has truly changed about our life, we still face day to day challenges, we still get hit with gut wrenching grief at the most ordinary of times, but I think the difference is now we are in a place (physically and mentally) where we can rise above the storm and find the light. We have created breathing space to live, focus on the good, share all the love we have to give, and be generous beyond measure. I cannot say that we are grateful for the life that our daughter has been dealt, but I can say with great assurance, that what I am grateful for is that because of this life we are able to give love and kindness generously, to everyone and anyone we come in contact with. We have nothing to lose in doing so. In the quiet, behind the scenes, a fearlessness has risen up in our little family of overcoming our day to day challenges by spreading joy, as best we can, with every single person we have the privilege of coming in contact with.

The life we have been given here has given us the opportunity to slow down, to quiet the noise around us and to sit in stillness so that we may be more aware of those around us. We go on daily walks here on Coronado Island, I push the double stroller with Ev in the back and Merrit up front, while Stephen keeps track of Ellis on his scooter. We are set with a bag of dog treats so that we can offer all of the dogs in our neighborhood (there are hundreds, thousands, a lot) a little something as we stop and say hello. These little pauses on our quiet neighborhood walks allow us time to slow down, give away some smiles, share in a bit of conversation, and often times strike up some conversation about our kiddos, about Evie, or what brought us to Coronado. To that we say, sunshine, the beach, great weather for Ev, a slower pace of living, good schools, peace, quiet, hope, rest, perspective, new friends we have yet to meet, a greater calling, that one person who needs a little bit of encouragement, another family struggling to make it through a seemingly impossible diagnosis…the possibilities are endless.

In the quiet is where we regain our strength for whatever may lie ahead. In the quiet is where we rally as a family, rest on Him, and face each day with love and grace leading the charge. In the quiet is where we find our hope among the things that have broken us. In the quiet is where we find our peace. In the quiet.