Here in the good ol’ Rocky Mountain region
we are very use to several spring snow storms.
While others are chatting it up about planting seeds,
and building gardens,
we are still just ordering seeds,
and making plans.
Springtime in the Rockies.
When I was deepest in my depression
it was like being buried in a blizzard.
Where you can’t even see a foot in front of your face.
And the longer you sit there,
the heavier the snow gets,
and the darker it gets,
and the less you can breathe.
And digging yourself out of the heavy, deep, dark, snow,
it seems nearly impossible.
Because of course, you didn’t think to bring a shovel with you
when it all started, with the birth of a new life,
on a warm spring day.
Something that I love to do is beadwork.
It gives me something creative to do
that does not involve finger paints and macaroni.
Beadwork gives me something to focus on
that is just … mine.
I know, some of you might read that and say
“OMG, how selfish?”
I don’t blame you, I use to think that too.
When the snow was heavy.
But then, some of you might understand,
that sometimes when your whole life revolves around
your family and school and house,
sometimes you just need ONE thing to call YOURS.
In my own blizzard, I saw a tiny speck of light
through the snow.
I spoke up, and while I was not in a place where I was
tempted to take my life (or anyone else’s for those who might go there),
I did recognize that it was not normal to think about getting
in your car and just see how far you could drive.
I mean to the point that I would make sure I had a kid with me
every time I got in the car to ensure that I would not just keep driving.
My light? Was a doctor visit for a post-partum check up.
I was a day early, and it’s about 40 minutes away.
I was crushed.
Hoorah for the receptionist that noticed my face drop.
And the tears well up in my eyes.
I went back to my car,
with my screaming baby,
in the parking garage,
and cried while I nursed her.
I got a call from the receptionist asking if I’d gotten very far.
Why no, I’m in the parking garage freaking hysterical.
Oh good, she says, we can get you in, just finish up with your daughter and come on in.
God loved me so much that day.
It was like a weight was lifted.
And that day
the snow started melting.
And I took my first step to building my own garden path,
the one that blooms regardless of the weather outside.
I want you, regardless of what your spring blizzard looks like,
to plant your own garden.
One of gratitude,
One that does not rely on perfect.
A garden path that allows you to stamp out the weeds of
doubt, and anger, and sadness.
Just like a real garden,
you’ll need tools.
The first tool you’ll need is a pair of rose colored glasses.
You read it.
Rose colored glasses.
Because I certainly don’t want you blind to all that is around you,
but I do want you looking for the beauty first.
Write down a list of all the things you do in your life.
No judgment allowed.
Just write the list.
For every item you have written down,
I want you to write something positive about that item.
It’s like writing in your gratitude journal.
At first, it might be hard, and even seem silly.
Do it anyway.
Then pick three things
that you want to work on,
to make the positives BIGGER!
Write down three actions you can take TODAY,
to get yourself through the blizzard,
and further down your garden path.
I’d like to hear your thoughts.
I’d like to hear your ideas of what your garden path looks like
once the snow melts.