It’s hard to watch since winning a medal is off the table. They lost their place in front when they took that awful tumble.
But we cheer them on-the limping athletes that manage to cross the finish line.

And we should.
Because getting up and going on is a victory worth cheering.
And it’s a victory I strive for every day.
Just showing up with a broken heart is hard. Not giving in to despair is a daily decision that requires continued commitment to face the morning light.
On other days I can use the tools I’ve crafted over time to screw down the lid on the box of emotions I keep hidden inside.
But opening my eyes to Christmas Day takes extra effort.

It would be so much easier to sleep the hours away, safe and secure in the cocoon of my warm bed. Not because I don’t want to share in the food, fellowship and fun. But because every sight, sound and smell of Christmas pierces my heart and reminds me of the widening gap between when I saw Dominic last and right now.
So when you feel a little frustrated that I’m crying “again”, when you wonder when I’m going to “get over this” or “be back to my old self”-please picture that limping runner gunning for the goal.
Jump down from the comfort of the bleachers and take my hand.
Cheer me on.
Offer a cup of water or a chair so I can catch my breath.
Don’t turn away in your discomfort at my pain. Choose to be a witness.
Speak courage to my heart.
Help me make it to the finish line.










I made some balls from little scrappy bits of fabric wrapped and glued in place. The pieces are useless alone-not big enough to do a thing. But together they are beautiful and strong and have purpose. 










