Taken and amended courtesy of Natalie Norton’s blog. Written to help me cope with finding out about Molly’s cerebral palsy and the days thereafter…
I knew this girl once.
She was happy and brave. She had a skip in her step and a song in her heart. She loved the world completely, and the world loved her right back again.
The girl grew up.
And sometimes, she felt as if the world had stopped loving her quite so much. . . or just maybe, he’d forgotten about her altogether.
The girl felt all alone.
The girl cried. She cried and she cried and she cried.
A hundred rivers, she cried to overflowing, and then she cried some more.
Then one day, the girl woke up, and she didn’t want to cry any more.
The girl wanted to laugh.
She wanted to laugh, and she wanted to sing! She wanted to skip, and she wanted to dance!
She wanted to love the world, and she wanted to show the world how to love her right back again.
The girl declared war on her hurt, and she sang as loud as she could to overcome the
sound of her sorrow.
The girl had forgotten how to skip, so every day she tried to learn how to skip and to put on a brave face. She found new projects to sink her teeth into and to keep her mind busy from the sad voices in her head
She worked and worked and gave and gave. The people around her took and took and took.
She wasn’t working and giving to feel better about things. She did this to survive day by day. She felt like was running right over the top of it all. She wanted to show she wasn’t different and that she was strong and brave, and that she had so much fight left in her. Enough fight for all the world (and then even more left over, just in case).
The girl found her smile again. The girl found her courage.
The girl had proven that she (and you) can overcome anything in life, just so long as you stay brave and keep right on loving (and believing in) the world, no matter what.
So even though the girl knows that in a different life, on a day like today she’d be seeing the world in innocence and through a 5 year old little girls viewpoint. She’d be dropping off the girl at school or watching her swim or listening to her
read she knows that her life in retrospect is not that bad.
Bruised, but not beaten.
Yes, today, she’s dying from so much ache. The wanting is heavy on her chest, and the hurt keeps finding it’s way to the girl’s stomach until she can literally feel the vomit rising into her throat. She feels lonely.
Yes, the girl has much to wonder about. . .But one thing is clear.
The girl knows that this day will be but a moment. And one day, sooner than later, this pain, so deep and so wide that it threatens to swallow her away, will be filled with joy twice as deep as is her sorrow.