A Scar Heals Stronger

Loss changes a person. Loss of any kind. It changes the very fabric of our being. But like a scar, sometimes it can grow stronger where it left it’s mark. For others, it simply never fully heals.

These past few months have brought to mind the truth that we are all here for a finite amount of time. What we choose to do with that time we are given is usually up to us. However, sometimes life changes direction and blows our sails in the opposite way from where we wished to be. The struggle to get back on course can be daunting.

Community is something I have found to be a constant. Sometimes we shut it out, sometimes we long for it. I have found myself at both ends of this rope. When times become difficult it can be very easy to slip into that pool of darkness, slowly drift away to a place of solitude. But it’s dangerous to stay there for long! Reaching out when we are at our lowest can be the biggest struggle of all! Living in a small town, I have come to realize more and more, that community is the greatest blessing of all.

The light that touches us when we are brave enough to reach out, can save us. In moments of great loss, of any kind, we often are unable to find our way to move forward. But lately, I’ve seen how compassionate this world can be in the midst of great tragedy. You will be able to move forward again only when you open yourself up to those who wish to give to you.

When we are most vulnerable, we often also are feeling unworthy of anyone’s help. Pride can block healing. But the people of our community in Lake County, have banned together on so many occasions these past few years to bring help, hope, honor, and grace back to us, that if those who need it would just let go of that pride, they would find something even stronger. It’s love.

Breathing again, after loss, comes one conscious breath at a time. But eventually the fog will lift. It does blow away, and if you can look up from grief, you may find that there have been people from our community there all along, helping you to breathe once more on your own.

Gratitude comes when you can see miracles in the smallest, everyday things. The sound of birds when you awaken, the smell of fresh coffee brewing, the smell of fresh cut grass, or the sight of an evening sunset. These things are there but when you really become aware of them, they can awaken you.

This blog started after the Valley Fire, and was primarily to help me gather thoughts for the book I’m writing. Oddly enough, it’s turning out to be mostly a book about the love of a community! The loss that so many had from the fires over the last few years is what prompted me. But after these past few months, the human loss of friends, relatives, community leaders, and icons, has brought me to this blog post. I simply want to say, I am so proud that however damaged our community has been, it still rises up to help each other through the storms.

A safe port for those searching, is usually right in front of you. Don’t be afraid to reach out. I believe I have experienced divine intervention many times in my life. Today I was driving home from our ranch, thinking about writing this post, and Marc Broussard’s song DON’T BE AFRAID TO CALL ME, came on and I found myself crying. I knew then what I had to do.

I believe it was intended for me to write this today, if even just one of you out there reads this. Maybe my words were meant for you. Remember, wherever you live, and especially in small town communities, there are always lots of people willing to help. People that want you to feel loved. People willing to help change the winds in your favor. It might not be the place you first set sail to, but it will hopefully be a place, (physically or spiritually), you can feel safe and call home.