Of weakness, wobbles and Winter’s end…..

I have loved being the strong of me,
loved being the older one who hefted bags of soil and pots of living things
and pruned and dug and tucked and tweaked and lasted long until the work was done.
Loved flinging myself headlong into wild dance with the Muse,
until my chest heaved wholehearted and sweat and dirt and paint and grin
covered me like a song that I relished diving into,
 unafraid of swirling waters because I actually prefer.
Oh give me strong white roaring waves because I’ve got a whitewater heart
and peace can be hard to find in stillwater places
unless I’ve spent myself already in the breakers.

When I went down with Covid in mid December, it found me
able to rest patient and lean into the process of cooperating  with and waiting for healing to happen.
It was fear and relief and dread and hope and mindfully ride each sickly wave as they hit.
A lot like labor – really painful hard but focused,  with eyes of the prize.
“This too shall pass,”  I imagined my mother’s voice saying.
Breathe and pray and go through.

And I went through. Within several weeks I was weak but back to my life
and so grateful to be.
When another wave crashed down and knocked me powerful off my feet again
in January, I was bewildered.  I was in the thick of packing and preparing to move
and this felt totally rogue.  I was mystified.  How even is this real?
I slowly recovered,  read,  researched,  and realized that this sometimes long road is a real thing.
I slowed down more and took even better care.

Then,  in early February,  the night before the movers came,
I again couldn’t taste my food and began to sink beneath the dark waters.
I went through again and in about a week I was able to do life pokey and slow again.
Pokey and slow and hesitant.   Like walking-on-egg-shells fearful hesitant.
How do I stop this thing?

When the beast flared again in early March I was less surprised
but more discouraged.
The shaking, burning, thirst.  The dizzying nausea.  The feeling of being pulled underwater.
How the weight of my shoulders threatened to crush me.
It all came with ugly crying this time.  I was tired.  Tired of going through.
I wanted answers and tools I could hold in my hands.
I knocked on doors – please help me –  until I found some.
Not a cure,  to be sure,  but handy tools that have helped me feel a little less afraid
so I’m not wasting precious time and focus scanning always the horizon
for another monster wave beginning to swell.

I’ll say more about that someday
(if you’re really allergic and post virus and shaking in your boots,
feel free to message or email me and I’ll gladly share what bits I’ve found.
In short,  you have to treat these flares like a massive mast cell activation
or cytokine storm.  Use the tools that treat anaphylaxis.  It works for me).
The storms still come – but I’m still going through to the other side.

I don’t want to give more time and attention to the virus here in this space.
It doesn’t deserve any more of my life and I want to continue to see and celebrate
the big beautiful of this ocean rather than the storms that blow in.
I’ve always loved waves and will ride them wholehearted still.
Just wanted to catch you up on my disappearance
and get back to the blogging space.
I’ve missed you much!

Happy greenings.  Happy springing.  Happy bounding back to life again.

“God of herons and heartbreak,
teach us to love the world again.
Teach us to love extravagently,
knowing it may
(it will) break our hearts
and teach us that it is worth it.

God of pandemics and suffering ones,
teach us to love the world again.

God of loneliness and longing,
God of bushfires and wilderness
and soup kitchens and border towns,
of snowfall and children,
teach us to love the world again.

Amen.”
– Sarah Bessey
(from her new book “A Rhythm of Prayer” which I’ve been loving so big)

To celebrate being back on the blog,  I want to give away one of my books.
Hard to believe that even happened – my book – because I’ve done zero marketing.
Have not done any of the things.
But she’s here in all her ragamuffin glory and I want to share her
– leave a comment and I’ll pop your name in the drawing.
Thanks for coming around again;  I welcome you warm.

Comments

  1. Heartfelt hugs and oceans of caring are flowing your way. As they always do, and as they always will.
    Huge thanks for your book too = which allowed me to grasp at beauty and hope and wonder on dark days of my own.

  2. Jane Brocious says

    Dear, dear Jennifer, I am ashamed that I didn’t know the extent of your suffering. I have missed hearing from you, so I am grateful for this piece.
    Thank you for your eloquence in letting us know and for the mighty gifts you extend to us, your devoted readers. I love you, Young One!

    • jennifer says

      Oh no – no shame! I didn’t say. I really couldn’t. And with all of the noise
      we all have to navigate, gosh it’s a challenge to keep tabs even when we ARE saying.
      I’m glad to be pecking away at the type pad again and so grateful to hear from you.
      Thanks for being such a warm generous voice in my world, Jane:)
      Big hug,
      Jennifer

  3. You are a model for all who have struggled with so much — Covid, obviously. But in so many ways, all the other things that rear their ugly heads, retreat, and return. I am so sorry you have been fighting this and at some point, I hope you will share your strategy here or email to help those of us who have friends or family who are long haul or who might be. You are strong and powerful, more than you know. Perhaps we all are.

    I am grateful that you have come through this — again and again and again and my deepest wish for you is that it will soon “get the hint” and leave you alone. (Meanwhile, thanks for the wonderful giveaway offer but I was one of the very lucky ones from an earlier post, so please give someone else a chance to love it. It’s such a beautiful book — visually and your wonderful words — and it deserves a wide audience. (Sometime I’d like to learn more about your printing process — who did your printing, how you found them, the set up of your glorious art, all that!)

    Welcome back, dear Jennifer. I look forward to “seeing” more of you!

    • jennifer says

      Thanks for your kindness, Jeanie – so encouraging to read your generous words.
      I will e-mail you with some tools but don’t feel as if I’ve employed them long enough
      to call it strategy yet – will keep you posted! I will def share once I feel safe in saying.
      Thanks – it feels so very wonderful to be back in the neighborhood:)
      Big hug,
      Jennifer

  4. Oh, Jennifer, your post came in my email this morning and I felt so distressed to hear that you have been going through this! I had not heard about the flare ups that occur later – my heart goes out to you, my dear. I hope that you can now see an end to this, that you get stronger every day and that the Spring and Summer bring new hope and relief from suffering. Sending love and huge hugs. xoxoxo

    • jennifer says

      They’re not terribly common, the flares. Mostly in really allergic people
      from what I understand. I am getting stronger and the warm sunshine is sweet tonic
      to my body and soul:)
      Thanks and big hug,
      Jennifer

  5. Dear Jennifer, I feel bad about your waves after waves of Covid but I’m glad that you have found some help to relieve your nasty symptoms. So much suffering. I wish you a speedy recovery and your full strength back so you can do the things you love to do.

    Happy Easter to you and yours.
    Hugs, Julia

    • jennifer says

      Thanks, Julia – I feel those good wishes.
      I’ve been doing life with joy and some gusto mostly – just throttled down
      and gimpy and slow. I’m finding gifts in the slow, believe me. It’s not fun
      to go slow but there’s a whole lot more to see out the window and I’m getting re-set
      in some ways. At least that’s what I am telling myself:)
      Happy Easter to you and yours also!
      – Jennifer

  6. Oh gosh – so sorry to hear about your bouts of Covid! But your resilience and beautiful spirit shines through.

  7. My dear, you are one tough broad and maybe now this nasty bully has finally realized it and will keep a great distance. I have had you in my thoughts and in my heart, knowing that you were dealing with so much but now I think of you in your pretty new home, getting your health and strength back more every day. Soak up that beautiful sun, rest beside that singing water and keep healing xo

  8. Maureen Blake says

    Sweet friend, what a rocky road you have been on. My heart is with you as you continue to heal, to soak spring deep into your bones, to lift your dear face to the light and to Love. 💓

  9. Janet Savold says

    SO good! I wish every person dealing with this could read!

  10. Jen, Hopefully this time of year for renewal is helping you get back to your good place. So sorry you have had to go through all of the Covid mess kicking your butt!! Love you bunches and miss all the Creasy family.

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